


A Whole New Way of Life

by concinnity, Pennyplainknits



Series: All New Kinds of Weather [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dogs, M/M, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 07:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11226543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concinnity/pseuds/concinnity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennyplainknits/pseuds/Pennyplainknits
Summary: Back when the NHL had announced this whole thing, Tyler'd sent Sid a picture of himself (shirtless, because it pays to advertise), sprawled on the sofa with Cash and Marshall snuggled up to him. "Come and meet the kids after," he'd said, and Sid had replied simply, "looking forward to it."





	A Whole New Way of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Set during summer 2015. Title for this and the previous two fics in the series from “When My Boy Walks Down the Street,” by the Magnetic Fields. Thank you to immoral_crow for the beta!

The signs at the entryway spell out "NHL State Fair" in jaunty letters. There's an overall feel of hay bales and wholesome family fun. It's already hot, even this early, and Tyler hopes the Stars’ booth at least has shade. Jamie may have gotten used to the heat after a summer in Dallas but Tyler's still hit with the shock of heat every time he steps outside of the air conditioning.

He perks up and smiles at the woman with an earpiece and clipboard.

".....so you're with the Stars in the healthy eating zone," she says, walking and talking and clearly expecting Tyler to follow, so he does. "You'll be rotated throughout the day but we're going to start you off with your captain." 

"Okay," Tyler says, as she seems to be waiting for a response.

"Of course we'll have actual chefs to do the real cooking but do please get involved as much as you can," she continues.

"I thought our stall was grilling?" Tyler steps over a hay bale. "I'm pretty sure I can flip a burger."

"I'm sure you can," she says, "but our insurance premiums are sky-high as it is."

She leads him to a booth which does, he notes, have green and white canvas shades, his captain, and an actual chef, firing up the grill.

Jamie waves at him. 

"Apparently we're not allowed to grill things," Tyler says, by way of greeting.

"Sorry guys." The chef gestures with his tongs apologetically. "More than my job’s worth."

"We could...put the burgers on the buns, I guess?" Jamie says, making the best of it. "And add the ketchup?" 

There are giant bottles of ketchup and mustard decorated with the black NHL shield and green ribbons, and chili sauce in a squeezy bottle shaped like the Stanley Cup. 

"This is the weirdest promo thing I've ever done and that includes being naked on a Zamboni," Tyler says. 

"You're...not wrong." Jamie says. He pokes, a bit listlessly, at the stack of processed cheese squares.

Across the way someone - Tyler doesn't recognise who - is standing on Shea Weber's shoulders attaching the banner across the "Predators’ Slap Shot Gallery." There's definitely a horse somewhere close by, going by the smell, and apparently a Stanley Cup corn maze in the next field, a tall sign pointing the way.

Tyler grins, shoves his shoulder into Jamie’s, takes a selfie in front of the grill and posts it to Marshall’s Twitter account, and settles in to rearranging all of the condiments.

***

He’s thinking about whether he could get the chef in on pranking Jamie when Tyler sees yellow out of the corner of his eye and turns to follow it. The Pens’ fruit stand is across the wide path and over a bit from the Preds’ booth. 

Sid is stretching his arms out over his head and rolling his shoulders, loosening his chest up. He's packed on more solid muscle, and the t-shirt is straining across his shoulders and biceps. Tyler can't help looking downward at the taper of Sid's waist where the shirt's ridden up. He jerks his eyes up again when Sid lowers his arms. Sid's giving him a smile Tyler can't quite interpret, but there's a little bit of a challenge to it, a “want to make something of it” expression identical to the one he makes when he’s daring you to try and check him, to throw yourself at him and see what happens.

Tyler’s done that in the past, and liked the results just fine.

"Dude, quit staring, it's embarrassing," Jamie flaps a lettuce leaf gripped tightly in tongs at Tyler. "I know you have a crush or whatever but most of us get over it after the first year or so."

"I'm not staring!" 

"Dude." Jamie smirks at him judgmentally. 

"I'm not - hey where the fuck did you get tongs? I don't have tongs!" Tyler reaches over to grab at the lettuce leaf and Jamie yanks it out of reach and slides over to the food prep counter.

"Swear jar swear jar there are children present, Segs!" Jamie shoves a shoulder at him, blocking his reach, and puts the lettuce carefully on a bun, staring down at it in satisfaction. Tyler swipes the lettuce and eats it, chewing noisily at Jamie while he digs his wallet out and searches for more dollar bills. Jamie starts threatening him with the tongs, clicking them at Tyler's shirt until they're circling around in the tiny space. 

"Uh, guys?" Tyler stops when he sees the chef in the entry, back from his break.

"Sorry! We were just, um." Tyler's got nothing.

"Tyler was making a donation to the swear jar," Jamie says, pulling out his earnest face like a champ even though he's still pink from laughing.

"Yes!" Tyler drops a dollar into the plastic box with "swear jar" scrawled across the torn off label. There's a series of smiley faces drawn onto the line of tomatoes at the top of the label, because Jamie is a secret asshole. 

The chef just raises his eyebrows, unimpressed and looking resigned. Tyler winces. “So how did you get roped into working with hockey players all day?” he begins, because everyone should be having fun, and if he gets the guy on his side, maybe he can get tongs, too.

“My company’s doing most of this catering,” the guy - Doug, his nametag reads - says. He flips more raw patties onto the grill. There’s a line already forming. “We do a lot of corporate parties, cook-outs, things like that. We’re doing the flame-grilled chicken cart and the salad bar here as well, but they got someone else for the ice cream and cotton candy.”

“Salad bar?” Tyler asks. He reaches towards the grill but Doug glares at him so he pulls his hand back. 

“Gotta have some kind of vegetables,” Doug says. “Fruit too, apparently.” He points with the tongs to the Pens’ booth across the way. “Whoever those guys are seem to have it in hand.”

“You don’t know who they are?” Tyler says. Sid’s winger, the hot Swedish one, is counting out blueberries as he chats to a guy in a cowboy hat.

“Hockey players like the rest of you,” Doug shrugs. “I don’t really follow team sports. I’m more into rock climbing.”

Tyler shudders involuntarily, and Doug raises an eyebrow.

“Heights aren’t my thing,” he explains. “Though hey, if this day changes your mind about hockey, those guys over there are a good place to start. After the Stars, of course.”

“Hey Segs, little help here?” Jamie calls, gesturing at the line. “Those burgers done?”

“Coming,” Tyler says. Doug flips the burgers onto the buns and Tyler scoots them across the condiment station. Jamie starts portioning out the cheese and tomato slices. 

“Mustard, sweetheart?” Tyler asks the older lady at the front of the line. He gives her his best smile and she giggles.

“Move it along Tyler,” Jamie says, “we’ve got a line. No flirting.”

“He’s such a hard task master,” Tyler says to the lady, and she chuckles again and shakes her head as Tyler moves on to the next person in line.

***

Tyler looks back over at the Pens booth a little while later though, despite himself. Sid is sitting on his heels, talking to a very small toddler who’s staring at the strawberries she’s grasping in each hand. Tyler sidles a bit nearer so he can hear.

Sid’s smiling widely, the creases of his eyes showing. "Oh, you can eat them all at once, that's the best way! Hold them by the green bit. And then just pop it all in once and bite. See?" Sid pulls a strawberry out of one of the baskets on the table and demonstrates, mouth wrapping around the strawberry and sucking before pulling the stem away.

“It’s all messy!” There’s strawberry juice running down the front of her tiny hockey jersey.

Sid catches Tyler’s eye, licks the tips of his fingers and says, low and sly but loud enough to carry, "Sometimes messy is fun though, right?" and the kids all laugh delightedly. The muscles in Sid’s thighs bunch as he moves around, making sure each of the little cluster of children in front of him have baskets of berries and napkins, squatting back down to get in shot while their parents take pictures.

Jamie whacks him sharply in the elbow with the tongs again. “Dude!” Turning to see what Tyler’s staring at, Jamie sees all the kids around Sid and his eyes soften. “Aw, look at them. They’re pretty cute.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “Really cute.” He can’t stop smiling.

***

The organisers rotate people on and off, Sid's pleased to find out. Kris and Olli show up just before noon, Kris in huge mirrored aviators that still manage to look good somehow, and Olli with a thick stripe of zinc down his nose and across his cheeks.

"I don't want heatstroke," he says serenely when Horny chirps him. "How are all these people running around in it?"

"They're used to it." Kris shoves Sid off his stool to take his place and Sid stumbles, not ready for the impact. 

"Training going well, eh?" Sid says, finding his feet. Kris shrugs, a half smile on his face.

"Gotta keep up with the young guys," he says. “I stepped it up some." He pushes his shades up onto the top of his head to keep his hair back.

"Show me at preseason," Sid says, smiling and clapping him on the shoulder. Kris is fit and healthy, tan and happy and strong, and Sid's already clicking over different possibilities for plays in his mind as he wanders away from the stall to see the rest of the fair.

It's not _quite_ the weirdest thing Sid's done, promo-wise. He's still got some awkward memories of photoshoots, early on, before he got better about saying no. It's getting there, though, and Sid has no idea how or why Gary Bettman roped the entire league into cutting their summer short for a “family-friendly brand expansion experience,” or why they chose Texas. At least it’s just _strange_ rather than actively mortifying. And it's kind of nice, sunny and relaxed and full of fans learning new things. He's not awkwardly serving dinner or dealing cards, so it could be worse. And if he'd gently suggested the fruit stand go opposite the Stars’ BBQ, well, healthy eating's important, right? People should be able to get fruit as well as fast food. Watching Tyler charm people is just a bonus.

The Oilers stall, once he gets to it, is draped in blue and copper, and seems to have raw vegetables and a line of cautiously excited fans. Sid waves at Hallsy and the new kid sitting next to him. He looks a little overwhelmed but is giving it his best shot, smiling and nodding and answering patiently. There's a pang of memory and sympathy, a decade afterward, so Sid slips through the crowd until it opens up and he can get to the stall, ignoring the chatter behind him.

"Hi, Connor, right?" He reaches over to shake hands "I'm Sid."

"Hi, Mr Crosby. Uh. Sidney," Connor says.

"Sid." Taylor makes room for Sid to hop over the dividing table and cram onto the bench next to him. Cameras flash and Sid has spots in front of his eyes for a bit until they clear. The table appears to have celery sticks and grated carrot scattered across it, limp salad leaves wilting in plastic bowls. "Do you guys have anything more - fairground? We got stuck with the world’s most boring food stand."

"Bananas. Blueberries. Strawberries," Sid says. He crunches a celery stick so he doesn't laugh at Taylor's stricken face. "What do you guys have?"

"Salad." Taylor pouts. "The _Flames_ get fire grilled chicken." He gestures with a cup of cherry tomatoes to the stall opposite, encompassing the red awnings and giant gas grill in the centre.

"When they said we'd be running stalls at a fair I thought like, cool rides. Fried food. Bouncy houses." Connor sounds kind of sad. "But then the front office said -"

"Insurance," Sid guesses. He's almost tempted to ruffle Connor’s hair. "It's a killer."

Sid leaves Connor and Taylor gamely trying make salad interesting in the face of grease and fire, and waves at Patrice, who’s smiling as sweetly as only he can at a harassed looking woman trying to corral twins and a very bouncy dog. He skirts carefully around the Bolts’ roller hockey thing, which has more balls flying through the air than seems particularly safe. Sid's looking for the Avs’ ice cream stand because Nate wouldn't shut up about Sweet Action ice cream when they were in France, and he wants to see if it's as good as Nate claims.

He finds the Avs set up in an old fashioned ice cream truck that’s a tight fit for the two guys in there. The line is a couple people deep and Sid chats with the guy and little girl in front of him as he waits. They don't know much about hockey, locals, but they seem to be having a good time and the little girl excitedly explains how "the very tall man with crinkly eyes" taught her how to take a slap shot. It was, apparently, way more fun than soccer. Sid makes a mental note to tell Shea he has a convert, and points out the kids’ hockey information stand.

"Last year it was all about pony riding," her father says, sounding fond but resigned. "I guess this is about as expensive." The little girl looks momentarily guilty but then says "At least you won't have to feed the horse?"

Sid laughs. "Sorry, it can get pretty expensive. I know it was hard for my parents, growing up. But there's a lot of places that will help out with the cost of equipment, especially getting started. If you're local I think the Stars have a program, but most big cities will have something."

The line moves forward, and Sid reads the board with the different flavours, trying to make up his mind. Nate and Matt are crammed into the van handing out cups and cones. Clearly, Sid thinks, ice cream scoops and sprinkles rank lower on the insurance risk scale than BBQ grills.

"Sid!" Nate's hanging half out of the window "How's it going?" He's even more sunburnt than he was back home, pink across his cheeks with the old burn peeling down his nose.

"It's good," Sid says. "This is a good idea, it’s fun."

"Not getting mobbed over there opposite the local boys?" Nate asks. He looks like he’s hiding a laugh and Sid leaves that comment be. "What can I get you?"

"You said this place was the best," Sid says. "So, give me your best cone. I still say it won't beat that chocolate sundae we had."

"Just you wait." Nate scoops, stacks, and sprinkles, and then hands the dangerously toppling cone out to Sid. "Voila."

Sid takes a careful bite, trying not to dislodge anything.

"Mmmmmff," he says, around a mouthful of chocolate-peanut-caramel. "Okay, that's good." It's on the edge of too sweet, but Nate knows him well enough after this summer, and it is, indeed, exactly what he would have picked for himself.

"Move along, Squid," Dutchy calls and Sid steps out of the way, apologising. The guys behind him in line are laughing at the nickname, and Sid has to carefully juggle his cone and a sharpie to sign some shirts.

***

Sid’s disappeared, and although Letang’s also pretty easy on the eyes, Tyler decides to take a walk around the fair to get into some air that smells a little less like cooking meat. He leaves Jamie smiling at fans and handing out autographed napkins, ignoring the betrayed face Jamie gives him over his shoulder as Tyler slides out the small back door of the trailer. 

The corn maze looks like fun - he sees parents herding small children out the exit carrying little baskets of candy - but would probably take more time than he has. He heard something about the wunderkind having to hand out spinach, though, and wanders toward what he thinks is the general direction of the Oilers’ area. He's going to take pictures of sad first overall draft picks and use them as text responses _forever_.

He shuffles across the grass paths, kicking up puffs of dust even though they'd just been set up that morning, and feels the sweat trickling down his neck from under his hat. He's thinking about heading over to Sweet Action Ice Cream and leaving teasing the boys until later, when he hears a sharp "Pricey! Get it OFF!" and turns around the corner of a tent to see PK Subban holding onto the leash of a tiny pony and staring at Carey Price accusingly. 

Tyler’s first thought is that the pony must’ve been threatening PK’s outfit, because, as always, PK has gone all out. He's wearing a gorgeous red western shirt that is pulling perfectly across his biceps, the seamed detail on the back emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders. A pair of expertly tailored jeans fall over cowboy boots Tyler's been in Texas long enough to recognize as expensive. He's topped it off with a crisp white cowboy hat, and when he turns around to wave the hat in the direction of the pony's midsection, Tyler sees the line of white pearl snap buttons down the front of the shirt, leading to a shiny over sized silver belt buckle in the shape of a maple leaf. It's all perfectly too much, perfectly PK.

The pony, which comes up almost to PK's waist, stays exactly where it is and glares at PK, ignoring the waving hat.

Tyler stops to take in the picture in front of him, and then remembers he has a phone and takes a real picture with it. This is going on Instagram.

Price is standing in the center of a circle of ponies being led around by his teammates and volunteers, in his own much more worn jeans and black hat. His shirt is white, with red snaps. While PK is clearly playing dress up, Carey seems as at home here as he does in his crease. Tyler pulls at his sweaty shirt sadly. He didn't get to have input on what they were wearing. He's done what he could with the pants, and of course he looks great in Victory Green, but the Habs look _fantastic_. 

The little ponies are all done up with red, blue, and white, too, with bows poking out between their ears, half covered by their fluffy manes. Tyler's a little surprised they're not all white ponies, but he figures they'd probably show dirt more. 

Carey watches PK for a minute, looking torn between questioning his life choices and thinking PK looks really hot, before walking over. The pony seems even smaller next to Carey, and swishes its tail balefully.

"You're holding the lead rope wrong," Carey says, and takes it out of PK's hand. "They're not dogs." PK looks as unimpressed as the pony does, but then Carey steps right up by PK and the pony moves away easily, as though there was never a problem.

"It was on my FOOT, Pricey. AGAIN. There's going to be a BRUISE. I NEED my feet, man! You remember, for the skating!" The pony nudges its head roughly against PK's thigh, leaving a snotty smear on his pristine jeans, and Carey reaches down to stroke its neck. The rest of the ponies walk around sedately, ignoring the scene.

"Looks good, everyone," Carey calls out, and hands the lead rope back to PK with a slap on the shoulder. "You're doing a great job breaking in your cowboy gear," he says cheerfully, and heads back to the center of the circle.

PK pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and starts scrubbing at the snot on his thigh, and the pony takes the opportunity to tug the rope loose enough to start pulling at the grass by its feet. Tyler watches it casually edge closer and closer to PK's boots, acting just like the dogs when they're about to try to clear off the kitchen counter, and gets his phone ready to take another picture.

***

"Oh totally, days like this are really important. They give people who might not otherwise see much hockey the opportunity to meet some players, learn more about the game, and have a little fun." Tyler leans down to speak into the reporter's mic. "Not much ice around in summer in Dallas, but we can still work on skills, there's some roller hockey stuff, deck hockey, and of course, it's cool to do something a little out of the ordinary."

"And how are the Stars set for the season ahead?" the reporter asks. Tyler pushes his hand through his hair. He's set his hat down somewhere where it promptly disappeared. He squints against the sun. He never did get his ice cream.

"Well, we ended last season earlier than we'd hoped." The platitudes slip out easily. "But we were all proud of Jamie's Art Ross. I'm going to beat him this year, though."

"No you're not!" Jamie calls out from where he's carefully lining up mustard bottles. Tyler remembers he's on camera and just laughs rather than flipping Jamie off.

"Some new faces on the team, how will that affect things?"

"Yeah, I think that..." Tyler trails off because Sid's yellow shirt catches his eye again, his gaze helplessly drawn to where Sid is stretching up to grab a child's balloon from the roof of the Penguins' booth. His shirt clings to the small of his back and the width of his shoulders and Tyler stares at the flex of his calves as he goes up on his toes to reach forward. He finally grabs the balloon and hands it back to the waiting little boy, along with a banana. Even from across the way, Tyler can see his smile, real and sweet and open.

The reporter coughs, and Tyler remembers oh yeah, questions.

"Some new guys, yeah. Always good to get some more experienced guys, people who've been there, won Cups, especially for our young guys. Looking forward to playing with them."

"And of course, you played with Sidney Crosby for the first time this summer. How was that?" It was probably too much to hope that no one had noticed Tyler's attention wavering.

Tyler laughs. "We played together in Prague, yeah. Won at Worlds. We hadn’t had much contact before but he's just- he's an unbelievable hockey player. We all know that, right? But he's a great guy, just a really great all round guy and we got to be friends. He's the kind of guy that's always learning, always trying to be better, and I think I learned something from him too." He cuts himself off because Jamie's making stupid faces behind the reporter's back, batting his eyelashes like he didn't freak out for a day straight when he made the Olympic squad and Sid called to congratulate him.

"Sounds like he made quite the impression." The reporter sounds a little _mean_. Tyler's probably imagining it.

"Hey, he's _Sidney Crosby_. You ask any player here, they'll tell you the same thing." Tyler smiles his best media smile.

"Thanks for your time, Tyler." Mollified, the media team pack up and go to bother the Sharks at the dunk tank.

"Not a word," Tyler says to Jamie, as he lines up the buns ready for the next round of burgers. Sid catches them both staring, and gives them a little wave.

They've gone through two more coolers of burgers and most of a giant squeezy bottle of mustard when Kari and Jonny turn up to take over again. Jamie disappears in the direction of the Sharks’ dunk tank, but this time Tyler has other destinations in mind.

The Penguins' fruit stand is doing brisk business. Probably, Tyler thinks grumpily, because their players can actually _do things_. Fruit is presumably safe enough to let even Sid's insurance people sleep happy at night. There's a long line of adults and kids, waiting patiently to buy fruit and get stuff signed. The air smells like strawberries and ripe peaches, heady and sweet. The Pens’ goalie (Sid calls him Flower, Tyler remembers, though he's not sure if he'd get away with it) teases the kids at the front of the line. He pretends a banana is a beard, then a pair of sunglasses, before peeling it carefully and handing it to a little girl. She's wearing a black and gold jersey and a tutu and smiling like she just met Santa, the Easter Bunny, and Elsa all at once.

Then Tyler gets his first really good close up look at Sid, and thinks he might have been better off concentrating on princess goalies if he didn't want to flat out proposition him right here. Sid had looked healthy from across the way, even if Jamie's chirping and the constant flow of people meant he couldn't stare as much as he wanted. Close up, he looks almost indecently good. Yellow and black t-shirt stretching across his thick shoulders, sweat curling his hair and shining on his forehead. He's rocking the summer stubble but it doesn't make his jaw any less sharp. Tyler idly thinks about it scratching his thighs. Sid's just _beaming_ at people, so much happier and more open with fans than the tense media interviews at the end of the season. His fingers and his lopsided smile are both stained pink, like he's been snacking on the strawberries. He probably tastes sweet.

Tyler's about to say "Hello" as the line shuffles forward but Sid gets there first.

"Hi," he says. "Saw you over there on your stand. You get bored of burgers?"

Tyler's not one to let an opening like that go.

"Nah," he grins. "You can never have too much meat."

Fleury cracks up but Sid just presses his lips together. He hands Tyler a peach.

“Try this instead,” he says, eyes sparkling like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “They’re really good.”

Tyler takes a bite. It is good, sweet and firm. He licks his lips, because two can play at that game. Sid smiles back at him, a quick flash of something happy and private, before turning back to his strawberries. 

***

Back when the NHL had announced this whole thing, Tyler'd sent Sid a picture of himself (shirtless, because it pays to advertise), sprawled on the sofa with Cash and Marshall snuggled up to him. "Come and meet the kids after," he'd said, and Sid had replied simply, "looking forward to it."

So it’s no real surprise, at the end of the day, to find Sid leaning against his truck, bags at his feet. That doesn’t mean Tyler’s not pleased.

"How did you know which one was mine?" Tyler asks.

Sid grins. "You're not subtle" and steps aside to open the door. The door has Tyler's initials on it. Maybe he's got a point.

“Neither are you," Tyler says, and shamelessly watches Sid's ass as he climbs into the cab.

"I don't know what you mean," Sid says sweetly. 

Tyler slides into the driver’s seat.

"Sure you don't." He reaches out to crank up the air conditioning.

Sid thunks his head back against the sticky-warm leather.

"How do you cope with this heat all the time?" He sounds tired.

Tyler's answer dries up in his mouth because Sid hauls off his sweaty tshirt, makes a face at it, and drops it behind him into the back seat. He'd thought he'd got a pretty good sense of how well Sid's summer had paid off but he'd clearly had _no idea_. He really hopes Sid's down to hook up because he _needs_ have those shoulders hold him in place as soon as possible.

Tyler swallows a couple times and manages "Once again. Not subtle." He can feel the smile cross on his face, and sees it mirrored on Sid's. 

Then he's tasting it, because Sid glances around quickly and leans forward to press their mouths together, brief and firm, tongue flicking against Tyler's lips.

"Someone sent me shirtless texts," he says. "I'm just evening the score here." There's a competitive light in his eyes Tyler remembers from Prague, both on and off the ice, and it promises good things.

"I had to spend all day watching you _tongue fruit_ ,” he rallies. "Trust me, the score isn't even."

"Better take me home so that we can fix that, then." Sid leans back and stretches his legs out. 

"On it, but you're going to want to put on a shirt," Tyler says regretfully because, damn. That view. "You'll burn even through the glass and it's not a short drive. It’s sensible to cover up."

"Sensible? You?" Sid teases, but he twists to grab a tank top out of his bag and pulls it over his head, ruffling his hair.

"Hey," Tyler puts the truck in drive and heads out of the lot. "I don't want anything that's going to mean I can't touch you, if that's the plan."

"That is very much the plan." Sid bites his lips, still red with strawberry juice, and Tyler prays for empty highways.

Before he gets too far down the road, though, his phone starts vibrating in the cup holder. He yanks it up and reads the message.

 _hey do u want to come to dinner?_ Jamie writes.

Tyler has other plans for dinner. Sid looks over at him, questioning. Tyler keeps one hand on the wheel and writes out a reply with his thumb. 

_not tonite, got sunburned. :smiley face with sunglasses emoji: say hey to everyone_

“I’m pretty sure that’s not legal,” Sid says.

“Neither is your face,” Tyler says. 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Sid says. Sid’s smiling though, so when Tyler’s phone buzzes again he shows it to Sid.

_I told u to put more sunscreen on_

Sid stares pointedly at the road and puts his hand on Tyler’s thigh, so Tyler sends back _:middle finger emoji: :crying cat emoji: :green heart emoji:_ and tries to concentrate on the drive.

***  
When they get back to Tyler’s, the dogs’ deep woofs almost cover up the sound of their nails skittering across the tile as they hurl themselves toward the door opening from the garage. They bound toward Sid and Tyler, bouncing up and down in the air directly in front of their chests for a minute before finally gluing their asses to the floor like Tyler taught them. 

Sid looks over at Tyler, smiling almost as widely as he did at the kids today. He raises his eyebrows. “Is it okay?” he asks, stretching out a hand as if to pet them.

Cash shuffles forward slightly, trying to be sneaky by still sitting while he does it.

Tyler can’t help the smile stretching across his own face. “Yeah, they’re good boys. They know not to jump until I tell them it’s okay.”

The dogs vibrate in place, tongues lolling out as they try to will Tyler into giving them the release signal with the power of their minds and really effective sad puppy eyes. 

Sid bends over to say hello to Marshall, letting him sniff before running his hand over Marshall’s neck and then up behind his ears. “You are a good dog, aren’t you?” Marshall whines a little and shifts his paws. Sid’s still got his bag slung across his back, so Tyler just gives Cash a quick pet and then lets the dogs go.

They scamper around as they walk into house, snorfling and panting and whipping their tails into Sid and Tyler’s legs and generally obstructing the path, tags jingling. 

“Come on guys, come get a cookie.” The last thing Tyler needs is for Sid to get a dog-related injury. Tyler drops his keys and wallet on the table and heads into the kitchen, Sid following along behind him.

“Just dump your stuff there.” Tyler waves his arm to the little nook, half filled with shoes. Sid slides the gear bag off his back and sets it alongside his suitcase. Marshall nudges at the back of Tyler’s legs, his nose wet against his knee.

“Huh,” Tyler says when he gets to the kitchen and opens the treat cupboard. “I guess we’re out of cookies, kids.” 

Sid chuckles. “You’ve disappointed them now,” he says.

“What kind of dog parent would I be if I didn’t have back up supplies?” Tyler says. “They’re in the garage. I’ll go grab them, if you’re okay with the dogs?”

“I think I’ll survive,” Sid says, already bending down to scratch Cash behind the ear. Tyler appreciates the view for a few seconds before heading back out to the garage.

***  
Sid gets to his knees so he can pet the dogs properly, ruffle their silky ears and screw his eyes up as the black Lab licks his face happily. The brown one butts at him and he falls on his ass, which both dogs take as invitation to nuzzle and sniff at him even more energetically. He’s missed having dogs, but maybe not the large amount of slobber that goes along with it. Flower’s goldendoodles are slightly more reserved.

"You OK down there?" Tyler asks. He's holding Sid's suitcase and has his gear bag slung over one shoulder. "They bothering you?"

"No-oh!" Sid laughs because wet noses on his neck _tickle_ damn it. "They're just saying hi." He finds the spot on the black lab’s - Cash, according to his name tag - butt that makes the dog close his eyes happily as Sid scratches. Marshall lays over his legs, head in his lap, staring up at him as pleadingly as only a lab can. "Who's a good boy?" he asks, and Marshall's tail thumps happily on the floor.

"I'll leave you to get to know each other," Tyler grins down at them all. “Here, this is what they really want.” He passes down the treats, hard cookies in shape of bones. "You want anything out of here?" Tyler hefts the suitcase.

"Not right this second," Sid says. He feels a bit foolish down on the floor but the dogs seem happy and that seems to make _Tyler_ happy.

"I'll toss it upstairs," Tyler says. "Gear bag in the gym okay?"

Marshall wiggles even further onto Sid's lap and Sid scratches his tummy. "Sure," he says.

Tyler clicks his tongue and Cash springs to his feet and follows him out of the room. Marshall's having none of it - clearly he lives in Sid's lap now. Sid gives him a cookie, which he crunches up quickly, crumbs flying.

"Come on," Sid says more or less to himself. The wood floor isn't the most comfortable to sit on and he'd bet that Tyler's _exactly_ the kind of person that lets dogs on the furniture. He manages to gently shove the dog off of his lap and opens doors until he finds the den. There’s a dog bed in the corner. "Go there," he says, "go on."

Marshall trots towards it and lies down, Sid sits on the sofa.

"Good boy," he says. Marshall promptly gets up again and leaps onto the sofa, curling up in the dent in the centre.

"You let him climb up as a puppy and that's it," Tyler says.

Sid looks up and his breath catches. It's not like he's _forgotten_ that Tyler's hot. But there's remembering, and sneaking looks all day, and there’s seeing him standing, barefoot and shirtless, right in front of him. He's stripped out of the pants and shirt he was wearing at the event and changed into basketball shorts. He looks like he's had a great summer, sleek and strong, stark black tattoos making his biceps look even better, smooth and curved. The deep grooves of his hip muscles and his abs are just ridiculous.

Sid spends most of his life around guys in great shape, would put Kris's conditioning up against anyone and expect him to win, but Tyler's something else. Each muscle stands out perfectly, begging to be touched and traced and memorised, and Sid's suddenly really really glad he made the choice to stay here.

"Still anti-shirt then?" he teases.

"Hey, this is my house. Shirts are for losers, and don't even pretend you don't like looking," Tyler says easily.

Sid beckons him forward.

"I don't just want to look," he says.

Sid expects Tyler to join him on the couch but he just stands in front of him, hands loose at his sides. Letting Sid look.

So Sid does, taking his time. He looks at the cup tattoo high on his ribs, the scatter of hair leading down to the waistband of Tyler's shorts, looks at his his collarbones, his abs. Tyler grins and tenses his stomach, bringing each muscle into relief.

Sid reaches out to touch. "Show off," he says. He traces the definition, fingers moving lower and lower. Tyler shivers slightly. His skin is warm.

"Yes," Tyler agrees.

"Sid leans forward to kiss where his fingers have traced. Tyler’s skin tastes slightly salty. It brings back Prague, sweaty skin and exhausted kisses and stolen moments. He kisses lower, and lower, until he's stopped by the waistband of Tyler’s shorts.

" _Sid,_ ," Tyler nearly whines and Sid looks up.

"Hmmm?" he asks, humming against Tyler's skin. Tyler slides onto the couch, Marshall jumping out of the way, and then lies back against the padded arm. He pulls Sid down on top of him, and Sid's smiling as their mouths touch.

Tyler's hands slip over his hair, like he's expecting there to be more to grab onto, before settling on his shoulders. The kiss is warm and sweet and there's not much urgency. There's no need to rush, and Sid doesn't intend to.

"I like your dogs," Sid says, after a while. It seems important to mention.

Tyler beams. "Everyone does, they're the best dogs. They're not the only reason you're here though, right?" He slides his hand down Sid's back and it comes to rest on his ass. Sid's surprised it took him that long.

"No," he says, and kisses him again. "I said I'd visit."

"You did," Tyler kisses his neck, the spot behind Sid's ear that no one else seems to get, and Sid sighs. "I'm glad you did," Tyler mumbles against his skin.

"Feels weird to not do this in hotel rooms." Sid says, rubbing his nose against Tyler's. Tyler's beard is soft and it kind of tickles. "It's good."

"Yeah," Tyler squeezes Sid's ass. His hands are so big, Sid thinks absently. "Really good. No chance of interruptions."

"Mmm," Sid says. He feels slow and sun drunk after a day outside and he pushes his hips lazily into Tyler's. "That's great."

"My bed's bigger than the one in Milwaukee," Tyler says, voice low. "Just as a point of interest."

"I'll expect the full tour," Sid hums "We can - ugh!"

Marshall licks his ear, all wet sloppy tongue and dog breath.

"Marshall!" Tyler shouts, but he's laughing. "I'm sorry, they both need feeding. Do you need your dinner baby?" he coos to the dogs.

"What were you saying about no interruptions?" Sid asks, as Tyler wiggles out from under him and the dogs dance around his feet.

"I should feed them," he says. "Then they'll be to busy to pay any attention to us.”

"I could eat too," Sid says, He pulls up the hem of his shirt and scrubs at his face to wipe away the slobber.

"Food all around," Tyler says. He pokes his tongue between his teeth. "You should go right ahead and just take that off. Shirts optional, always. House rule."

Sid grins. It's so, so Tyler. "Food," he says, because now it's all he can think about. Lunch seems a long time ago, and it was mostly strawberries and ice cream. "Start the tour back in the kitchen."

Tyler reaches out and takes his hand. "This way." he says. He leads him out into the wide entryway. “Bathroom up there if you want to wash off the dog slobber,” Tyler gestures to the stairs. “My room next to it. I put your suitcase there, okay?”

“No.” Sid swings their joined hands. “I just made with you on your couch for 10 minutes but I want separate rooms.” He tries to keep his voice serious but can’t help the laugh by the end of it.

“Asshole,” Tyler says, laughing as well. He pushes Sid against the wall by the fridge and kisses him. “I was being considerate. You can’t just _assume_.”

“I think you can assume,” Sid says. “When have I ever been quiet about things I don’t like?”

He threads his hand into Tyler’s hair and holds him close, Tyler’s lips on his throat.

“Good point.” Tyler says. “But you gotta tell me what you do like, remember?”

“Right now?” Sid asks. He slides his leg between Tyler’s thighs and Tyler groans. “I was thinking food but maybe-Ugh!” There’s a wet, sloppy tongue on his bare foot and he looks down to see Cash.

Tyler laughs sheepishly. “Shit I’m sorry. He does that, it’s gross and I can’t seem to train it out of him. Come on, food for us, and the dogs. Dinner time, boys.”

Sid tries to wipe his foot off on the back of his pants. Tyler kisses his cheek. “Go wash up, I’ll start food. You like pasta?”

“Sounds good,” Sid says. 

Tyler opens the fridge and leans inside to root around. Sid watches the wings of his shoulder blades shift under the skin and runs his finger the length of Tyler’s spine. Tyler arches his back slightly, like a cat.

“I can’t really cook,” Tyler says, turning round. “But I can afford a meal service and follow instructions.”

“Close enough,” Sid says. “I guess I’ll go wash off the dog spit. Won’t be long.”

“I’ll feed the dogs,” Tyler says. “Off you go.”

Sid grabs shorts from his bag and takes the quickest possible shower, just enough to rinse off the dog slobber, sweat, and fairground dirt. He jogs barefoot back down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Tyler’s chatting to the dogs.

“That was quick,” he says. He pokes at the pan on the stove. He’s put a shirt on. Sid’s disappointed.

“I was hungry,” Sid says. He steps around the dogs, both busy eating, and sets his hip against the kitchen counter. He tugs at the hem of Tyler’s Blue Jays shirt. “What happened to shirts optional?”

Tyler laughs. “Stuff spatters,” he says.

“That sounds like the voice of experience,” Sid says. He hooks his chin over Tyler’s shoulder. “What’s cooking?”

“Pasta with chicken, mushroom and white wine sauce, according to the labels.” Tyler stirs the pan. “It generally turns out right.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sid says.

Tyler peers at the printed instructions then turns down the pan before emptying in the pouch of sauce. Sid smells white wine and garlic. 

“Hey, can I grab some water?” he asks. “Still feels like I need to rehydrate after all the sun.”

“Sure,” Tyler says, pulling glasses out of the dishwasher. He fills them at the fridge dispenser, the cold condensing on the side of the glass, and hands one over. 

Sid takes a long drink, still feeling parched, like the sun has dried out all the water in his body. Then he watches Tyler drink, how his throat works, how he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and feels the pulse of ‘soon’ in the air. Tyler grins.

“You’re looking at me like you want to eat _me_ ,” he says.

“Told you, I like looking at you.” Sid sets his glass aside and cups Tyler’s hips in his hands and strokes his thumbs up under his shirt. “But I’ve been looking at you all day and now i want to touch you.” 

“You are,” Tyler says, as his phone buzzes, “but that’s the timer for the pasta. Gonna need to fix that.”

“Food’s good,” Sid says. “But I’m going to reserve the option to eat you later.” He feels kind of silly being so over the top, but Tyler laughs, which is what he was going for.

“Fine by me,” Tyler grins. He drains the pasta and mixes it with the sauce, dividing it between two bowls. “Den?”

“Sure.” Sid collect the glasses and the forks sitting out on the counter, and follows Tyler back through the house.

***

Sid's dragging the tines of his fork aimlessly through the last of the sauce on his plate, tongue poking out between his teeth, when Tyler finally snaps. He puts his plate on the floor, takes Sid's plate out of his hands and sets that down too, then climbs into Sid's lap.

Sid's hands go to his hips at once. Tyler's knees press into the back of the couch.

"Hi," Sid looks up at him. "Can I help you with something?" He’s as polite as you like.

"Yep," Tyler grinds down so Sid can't be mistaken. "I got impatient." 

"No? You?" Sid smiles. He strokes up under Tyler's shirt, fingers dancing at the small of his back. "As I recall, you were the one who stopped us on the couch. I was happy to blow you right there. I wanted to." He sounds put out, petulant, like all he wanted to do was get his mouth on Tyler and it takes Tyler a while to remember why he hadn't just let him.

"That was the dogs," Tyler says, shifting again as Sid's nails catch against his skin. The neckline of Sid's tank is low enough that Tyler can see his necklace, the fine gold chain standing out against Sid's deep summer tan.

"Oh, the dogs." Sid sounds a little breathy, and he stretches up to kiss Tyler, wet and giggley, laughter spilling out between them. "And where are they now?"

"Finishing your dinner," Tyler jokes, but kisses Sid again before he can check. He's so hot and _big_ underneath him, broad shoulders and solid chest and razor sharp jaw, warm and gorgeous under Tyler's mouth and hands. He raises his arms so Tyler can strip his tank off and toss it aside, and tugs insistently on Tyler's shirt until he does the same.

Tyler leans down to kiss his collarbone and then tug one of Sid's nipples gently. The thin shorts Sid’s changed into hide nothing and Tyler grinds down as much as possible, writhing as he feels Sid's dick harden even further under his ass.

"Ohhhh," Sid sounds stunned, desperate, and he loops his arms around Tyler's neck, like he's keeping him there, doesn't want him to move even a centimetre. As if Tyler would want to be anywhere else. "Ohhh, keep doing that, please."

Tyler shifts again, rocks down against Sid, knees slipping and he has to brace his hands on the back of the sofa for balance. He curls into Sid because if Sid's not going to touch him where he needs he'll get the friction some other way. His dick rubs against Sid's stomach, and the next kiss is messy and off centre because they're both pushing and shoving against each other, chasing the right kind of sensation to make the pleasure spark. Sid moves his hands to Tyler's hips to keep him in place as he sinks further into the couch.

"Fuck," Sid hisses, because Tyler's got them lined up right now, Sid’s cock riding the crease of his ass and this time, this time, Tyler thinks, he's going to get it in him. No games, no rush, all the time they need. 

"Fuck, Tyler, the way you _move_."

"Same," Tyler says, but it's basically at random, no thought for actual sentences, not when he can't decide whether he wants to blow Sid or rub off on him or spare the time to get them properly naked. Sid kisses his neck, teeth scraping, and Tyler makes a decision and shifts back enough that he can stick his hand down Sid's shorts.

Sid gasps.

"I do want you to fuck me," Tyler says, curling his hand around Sid's thick dick and spreading the wetness around, "I really, really do, but I don't think I'm patient enough right now."

"Ngh," Sid groans, and spreads his legs wider so Tyler has more room to work. "I really want that too. But yeah, I want to take my time. And I want you like this, when I do. Facing me. In my lap. Just like this."

Tyler's hit by the sudden realisation that Sid might have a _list_ of things he’s been thinking of, which is basically the best thing ever. Tyler kisses Sid as sweetly as he can manage, and speeds up his hand. "Been thinking about that?" he asks. He rises up on his knees so he can tug Sid's shorts down and kicks his own off, clambering back onto Sid.

"I’ve been thinking about a lot of things," Sid whispers into his ear and starts to stroke him in return. “About making you come."

Tyler groans at that, the thought that Sid's been thinking of him as much as Tyler's been thinking of Sid. "Those are good thoughts," he says, huffing the words out because Sid's hand on his dick is a little too rough, quick and fast, matching Tyler's own urgency.

"Hey, lift up a bit," Tyler asks, "I need to get to -" He slides his hand down the back of the sofa, shoving it half under Sid's ass in the process.

He gropes it a bit. It's right there, after all.

"What are you doing?" Sid sounds confused.

"Got it!" Tyler says triumphantly and pulls the lube out from under the cushion.

"Lube? In your couch?" Sid laughs. "Don't the dogs find it?"

"Cash did once," Tyler flips the top, "but he just wanted to play fetch with it."

Sid's laugh bubbles up at that and he holds out his hand so Tyler can squeeze the lube onto his fingers.

When Sid's hand closes around him again it's wet and slick in all the right ways. Tyler crowds him against the back of the sofa and kisses the hollow of his throat and down along his collarbone until he feels Sid lose his rhythm, hand stuttering. Tyler shifts a little and gets his hand around them both, Sid's dick hard against his, their fingers brushing and tangling together.

"Your hands are huge." Sid's breathless giggle is almost rueful, appreciative.

"Sick mitts, I know." Tyler presses even closer so he can feel Sid shudder under him, laughing and panting all at once.

It doesn't take much more; they're both desperate, impatient, rutting and shoving against each other. Tyler has to tense his thighs to stay balanced, especially when Sid pulls him down into an urgent rough kiss, tongue stroking against his.

"Come _on_ " Sid demands, and sometimes, sometimes Tyler is good at doing what he's told. He rubs under the head of Sid's dick and Sid bites at his shoulder, breath wet against his skin. Tyler feels his own orgasm uncurl just before Sid's, shaking and nearly falling off the couch as come stripes white and thick between them, dotting Sid's chest and soaking into the pushed-down waistband of his shorts.

Sid smiles up at him as Tyler giggles, come-drunk and happy. Sid clumsily pets his hair a few times until Tyler slides off of his lap and snuggles next to him. He looks at Sid, uncomplicatedly happy, as Sid's eyes gradually track back into focus.

"Huhh," he says slowly. "We kinda got jizz on your couch."

"Nahh," Tyler says. "I think we got most of it on you."

"Yeah," Sid stretches, pleased smile on his face. "Mmmyeah we did." He sounds indecently satisfied and Tyler remembers that first time, Sid telling him he thought he might like making a mess. "I like it," Sid says.

"I remember that," Tyler says, and the kiss is slow and sweet, Sid pressing up against him. It's going to be a pain in the ass to wash the drying come out of his pubes, but Sid mouths his neck, and he makes such pleased sounds when Tyler kisses him, that he can't pull away. Getting clean together will be fun as well, Tyler thinks. Sid sighs happily and rubs his hand down Tyler’s back to rest at the dip of his spine, then lower, palming his ass. He wriggles happily, getting settled.

“Mmmmmm,” Sid says lazily. “This is great, been wanting to do this all day.” He squeezes Tyler’s ass and rests his head on Tyler’s shoulder, like he’d sleep right there if Tyler let him. It’s kind of tempting, but Tyler nudges him.

“Hey, get up.”

“Nuuuh.” Sid sounds grumpy. “I’m good here.”

“You’re not the one with dried come in their pubes,” Tyler says. “It’s itchy.”

Sid laughs. “Hot,” he says. “Ruin the mood why don’t you? I thought you liked me messy.”

“I do,” Tyler says, nudging Sid off and standing up. “But I thought you might want to come get clean with me. I’ve spent enough time in the shower thinking about you, after all.”

“Oh.” Sid bites his lip. “Well, when you put it like that.” He stands up and tugs his shorts up. “Let’s go.”

Tyler’s not kidding when he says he’s thought about Sid plenty in the shower, especially after Worlds. He likes Sid, and he likes getting off, and thinking about Sid, how he tasted, how he felt under him, is a favourite jerk off fantasy. He’s adding more detail to the fantasy now; the water flowing over Sid’s shoulders as he leans against the tile. His cries echoing round the shower as Tyler blows him. His skin, pink from the heat. His eyes, hazel and half-closed, water clumping his lashes. The slippery slide of his hand over Tyler’s cock, and how his skin tastes of soap bubbles.

Tyler leaves Sid drying off and goes to check on the dogs, even though they’ll find their way upstairs in the night. He slides into bed next to Sid. He’s already drowsing, sleepy from coming twice in short succession, and his eyes flutter as the bed dips.

“Hey,” Sid says, rolling onto his stomach. “This bed is stupidly huge.”

“I’m a big boy,” Tyler sticks his tongue out. Sid rolls his eyes and shuffles closer. He slings one thick thigh over Tyler, pinning him in place. It’s pretty sweet. 

“Sleep now,” he says, and snuggles in. Tyler kisses the top of his head and listens to Sid’s breathing slow as his own eyes close.

***

Tyler wakes up alone, reaching out across the sheets and only finding empty space. The dogs snooze on in their baskets, sleeping in for once. They'll need a run later, but for now, Tyler slips out of bed and grabs clean boxers, wriggling into them as he listens to the clatter and bang of Sid moving around in the kitchen.

He's assuming it's Sid. Either that or Jamie's about to get a pretty big surprise.

He rubs his hand through his hair and jogs down the stairs and across the cool tile floor. The banging's getting louder and interspersed with frustrated sighs the closer he gets to the kitchen.

Sid's opening and closing cupboards at random, stretching up high to get to the top ones. Tyler watches the deep dip of his spine as he twists and stretches and thinks about putting his mouth there again. 

"Looking for something?" he asks. Sid slams the door shut in surprise.

"Food," he says. "You were sleeping so hard I couldn't wake you, and I was starving."

"Well that's the mug cabinet,” Tyler says, reaching past Sid grab a glass of water. Sid drinks half of his own glass in one long swallow, never looking away from Tyler's face. Tyler kisses him as soon as he puts the glass down, his mouth cool with water and greedily insistent. Sid pushes him against the counter and holds him there, slotting their hips together and running his hands all down Tyler's arms, back up, across his chest and back down to his waist. He's heavy, bulky with summer training and hot as a furnace in contrast to the cool granite countertop at Tyler's back.

"Morning," Sid says, eventually. "I changed my mind, I don't want food. This time."

"Oh yeah?" Tyler tilts his head back so Sid has more room to work, and grinds his hips forward when Sid kisses his throat. "Got something else in mind?"

"Uh huh," Sid sinks down onto the tile. He kisses the head of Tyler's cock through his shorts and Tyler moans. 

Sid looks up from his knees. "Hey, toss me one of those pillows?"

"Huh?" Tyler asks. He's not really awake and Sid on his knees is taking up most of his higher brain functions. Sid gets huffily to his feet and grabs one of the cushions padding the dining chairs. Tyler can't even remember buying them, which means probably the decorator just decided he needed them. Sid tosses the cushion onto the tile and kneels back down.

"I'd make a crack about old men," Tyler says. "Except that's pretty smart." He rubs his own knee, reflexively.

"That still giving you trouble?" Sid asks, looking concerned even as he tugs Tyler's shorts down and nuzzles at his hip.

"Only if I don't stretch properly."

Sid tilts his head, skeptical.

"Promise," Tyler says. "It's fine. Are you gonna blow me now or not?"

"Excuse me for worrying about your fitness," Sid says. He kisses Tyler's knee. "And yes, I'm going to blow you now. Good start to the day." He breathes over Tyler's dick, warm air a gentle tease.

"I was thinking the same thing," Tyler says, then Sid licks daintily at the head of his dick and he whines. Tyler cups the back of Sid's neck gently as Sid kisses his hip, nuzzling along the cut of muscle. It tickles. Tyler sighs. He recognises that look in Sid's eyes. He's going to take his time, and that's fine by Tyler.

"This is so hot," Sid says, lips dragging against Tyler's skin. "This cut, it's like an arrow straight to your dick." He kisses his way down and pauses to suck just on the head, lips soft, tongue flicking into the slit. Tyler gasps and tenses his stomach. "Yeah, like that," Sid says, licking his lips. "Every damn shirtless picture you post, I see it and all I want is to put my mouth on you."

"You should do that," Tyler says, and he gropes behind himself to hold on to the countertop as Sid finally slides his mouth all the way down, throat opening around him, and that's it for talking for a while.

***

"Was going to take the dogs to the park this morning before it gets too hot. You want to come?"

Sid rolls his head to the side and looks at Tyler. They're both on the floor, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. The cushion is half under Sid's ass and he shifts it out of the way.

"Breakfast first?" he asks. They'd been a little distracted, but now he's suddenly starving.

Tyler leans across and kisses him.

"Breakfast first," he agrees. "But then?"

"Of course," Sid says. There's a whine at the door and Tyler levers himself to his feet to let the dogs into the kitchen. "Maybe I can get a run in at the same time? Preseason's coming. I don't really want to miss too much."

"You can chase these lazy boys," Tyler says. He ruffles Cash's ears. "They could stand to get more exercise."

"You spoil them," Sid says.

"Guilty," Tyler says. "But look at their faces. How could I resist?"

***  
It's a short drive to the park, the dogs sticking their heads out of the window all the way and happily springing out of Tyler's truck when he opens the door. Tyler hands him a frisbee.

The dogs race away across the grass as soon as Sid lets the frisbee fly. He's not quite got the hang of it yet, and the frisbee falls flat a few metres away, unlike the long, smooth flight that Tyler produces. He feels the little spark of competitiveness burn and turns to study Tyler's technique.

Tyler flicks his wrist and send the frisbee arcing out, dogs chasing it before Marshall leaps to catch it.

"How are you throwing it that far?" Sid asks. Marshall drops it back at his feet "You're throwing it way further, what's the secret?"

Tyler laughs, throwing his head back and _cackling_.

"Nope, let me be better at this," he says. "Not telling you."

Sid tries again but he must throw it wrong, he thinks, because the frisbee curves back round and he has to lean out of the way so he doesn't get hit. The frisbee drops to the ground and Cash noses at it pathetically.

"If we had two frisbees we could make the dogs race," Sid says.

"Quit taking your competitiveness out on my dogs," Tyler says.

"Oh, like you don't care about winning at all," Sid says.

Tyler scoops up the frisbee and they walk further into the park. It's not the simple square of grass that Sid was expecting, but more like a city nature park with curving trails, benches, and plenty of bushes and trees for the dogs to root through and pee against. There's a collection of tree stumps that must be especially interesting, because Cash and Marshall hare towards them, tails wagging, to join the dogs already there.

"Play nice boys," Tyler calls, jogging to catch up.

"Will they be okay?" Sid asks. It's a jumbled pack of dogs, mostly smaller terriers and a couple of Shepherds. "Are they okay with the little ones?"

"Sure," Tyler says easily. "We come here a lot. They have dog friends. And my boys are good with other dogs, don't worry." Sure enough, they're soon in the middle of the pack, sniffing butts, wagging tails, and rolling on the ground. Cash chases a sleek greyhound, who leaves him in the dust, while Marshall settles down to chew on a tree root with every sign of enjoyment.

"Shame you couldn't bring them to the fair yesterday," Sid says, "I bet they'd've enjoyed making new friends.

"New friends yes, the ponies, not so much. Cash is pretty nervous of horses," Tyler says. He sits on one of the benches and stretches his legs out, flexing his toes in his flip flops.

"I didn't make it as far as the pony rides," Sid says, though he certainly remembers _smelling_ them. "Were they cranky?"

"Only with PK," Tyler laughs. "Here, I took a picture." He digs his phone out of his pocket and Sid leans close to look. He likes the excuse to shift closer, scent of Tyler's sunscreen in his nose. "See, this one almost took a chunk of of his shirt."

The pony does, in fact, have a mouthful of PK's shirt. PK looks freaked out. Carey, in his cowboy get up, is laughing.

"He'll be annoyed the pony ruined his shirt," Sid says. "PK's always texting me about my shirts. And my suits."

"Trying to get you out of your clothes?" Tyler teases him, nudging with his elbow.

"What? No!" Sid says. He thinks about it. "I mean, you know PK. He's as much of a flirt as you are but I don't think _I'm_ his exception. No, we share a tailor in Montreal. He's always on at me to be more adventurous."

"Oh, I see, trying to get you _into clothes_ ," Tyler laughs.

"I just don't see what's wrong with my suits," Sid says.

"Try getting ones that fit," Tyler says. Before Sid can defend his sartorial choices Marshall barks, loud and insistent, and abandons his tree root to go racing off over the open grass towards a large, shaggy dog, and the small woman walking it.

"Hey, Marshall!!" Sid shouts, because he looks like he’s about to knock the lady over. But Tyler stands up and jogs towards them.

"Oh hey, it's Bear!" he calls over his shoulder. "We haven't seen her for ages."

The dog is rolling around with Marshall, playfully nipping and roughhousing. Her owner bends to ruffle Marshall's ears.

"Hello beautiful boy," she says. "Where's your no-good owner?"

"Always a pleasure, Elise," Tyler says, as they finally catch up to the dogs. This close, Sid can see she's dressed like most of the other dog walkers, water bottles and poop bags and leashes hanging off clips from her belt. She's wearing sunglasses and a huge hat. She has to stretch on tiptoe to kiss Tyler's cheek.

"Where's Cash?" she asks. "Bear missed him."

Tyler sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles. Cash barrels over, kicking up dried grass and knocking into Sid. Sid stumbles and steadies himself on Tyler.

"Oh, sorry," Tyler says. "Elise, this is a friend of mine from up North. Sid, Elise."

"Pleased to meet you," Sid shakes her hand. There's no recognition in her face, but it's hard to tell behind the sunglasses.

"Tyler got you walking the mutts?" she asks.

"I don't mind," Sid says. "This is actually the first time I've made it down here to see them. They're good dogs."

She nods. "Those big brown eyes mean they get away with everything."

"Guilty," Tyler says. He pulls a treat out of his pocket and tosses it to the dogs. Bear snaps it up.

"Don't spoil my dog!" Elise says

"But she's such a good girl." Tyler gets down onto his knees to wrestle with the dogs and gets his face thoroughly licked. He giggles. "Surprised you're still talking to me after the result last night."

"Don't start with me, Seguin." She points at Tyler sternly.

"Go Pats," Tyler says serenely.

"You have the same incorrect opinions, Sid?" Elise asks.

It takes Sid a moment before he realises the football preseason started this weekend, and puts the pieces together.

"I'm more a baseball guy," he says "But I live in Pittsburgh, so." He shrugs. She makes a dismissive noise that's half laugh, half cough.

"Don't listen to her Sid," Tyler pats his foot. "She can't help it she was born a Cowboys fan."

Elise waves him off, exactly the same gesture Sid's mom used to make when she was bored of him and Taylor bickering.

"Can't stand around all day," she says, “but it’s good to see you. Don’t leave it so long next time.”

“I don’t get to set my schedule in the season, you know that.” Tyler bends to pet Bear again.

“Wait til you’re retired like me and you can do whatever you please,” she says. 

Sid looks around for wood to knock on, automatically, before realising that’s his hang-up, not Tyler’s.

“Well I’m in town now til the start of the season,” Tyler says. “So the three of us will see you next week.” He kisses her cheek.

“Highlight of my week,” Elise says.

“You sweet talker,” Tyler says. He whistles and Cash and Marshall come to heel, standing patiently. 

“Nice to meet you,” Sid gives Elise a half-wave, and she nods at him.

“Enjoy your visit,” she says, and clips Bear’s leash onto her collar again, jogging towards the parking lot.

“Sid, if you want to run, we should go now, before it get too hot,” Tyler says. It’s already pretty hot, and Sid doesn’t want heatstroke. 

“Lead on,” he says.

The trail winds around the park, shaded by trees in part and skirting the edge of what Sid _thinks_ is an artificial lake. Tyler’s up ahead, but Sid’s not interested in racing. Instead he sets himself a steady pace, letting the rhythmic thump of his feet on the gravel path eat up the distance. Marshall lopes alongside him, and Sid’s glad of the company. The sweat sticks his shirt to his back and drips into his eyes, but at least it’s doing the same to Tyler too. His shirt is plastered to him, showing off his shoulders and the grove of his spine. It’s a pretty sweet view.

“Took you long enough,” Tyler says when Sid finally loops round to the beginning of the trail. He’s leaning against a fancy stone water fountain, Cash at his feet.

Sid braces his hands on his thighs and takes a few deep breaths. The air is noticeably more humid already, thick, and harder to breathe. 

“Wasn’t a race,” he says, and elbows Tyler aside so he can take a long drink from the fountain. There’s a separate ground level basin, and Sid can’t work out what it’s for until Tyler nudges a button with his foot and water wells into the basin to be greedily lapped up by the dogs. 

“That’s pretty cool,” Sid says. “Nice for the dogs.”

“Well, Bear gets thirsty so Elise put them in,” Tyler says.

“Huh?” Sid asks, confused. “Like, with fundraising? As a friends of the park thing?” He knows his aunt does something similar back home, but that’s mostly picking up litter and planting flowers. Not fancy park furniture.

“No, I think she just bought them outright,” Tyler says. Sid frowns.

“Dude, she owns this whole place.” Tyler grins. “She’s worth more than you and me combined.”

“I thought she was retired?” Sid asks. They’re walking slowly towards the car, the heat making it hard to think now that Sid has to focus on something other than running.

“Yeah, but she’s a retired...whatever the female version of oil baron is. Baroness?” Tyler says, laughing.

“Oh,” Sid says, feeling foolish. Marshall nudges against his leg and Sid pets his head.

“Saw Marshall keeping you company there,” Tyler says. He wipes his face with his shirt and resettles his cap. 

“Yeah,” Sid says as they wander back to the car. Sid suddenly can’t wait to be back in the air conditioning. “It was pretty nice. I’d like running a lot more if I had a dog to keep me company.” He knows a lot of the other guys listen to music, or weird podcasts about serial killers, but he can’t get on with anything in his ears when he runs. “Pretty boring by myself.”

“So get a dog,” Tyler says.

“I’m away so much,” Sid skirts around a pile of dogshit. “It doesn’t seem fair. The guys on the team that have dogs mostly have girlfriends or wives at home.” They reach the truck and Sid slides insides. Tyler opens the back to let the dogs hop in, then cranks up the air con.

“Dogwalker?” Tyler suggests. He checks over his shoulder, pulling a face at the dogs as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Mine love our dogwalker, don’t you babies?”

“I guess,” Sid says. “I think I’d feel bad about leaving them so much.”

“Then you’ll just have to keep coming to see mine.” Tyler takes his hand off the wheel and pats Sid’s knee. His long fingers span his kneecap, warm and rough against Sid’s bare skin.

“Hope I don’t need that excuse.” Sid looks across at Tyler, tracing the line of his jaw under his short beard and the dimple in his cheek as he smiles. 

“You don’t need any excuse,” Tyler says “I want you to stay as long as you like.”

“Well I bought clothes for a few days,” Sid says.

“You can stay even longer if you embrace the shirt free lifestyle,” Tyler grins. He pokes his tongue out, eyes still on the road. All Sid can do is laugh.

Tyler’s phone chimes and he wiggles it out of his pocket and hands it over. “Hey, can you read what it says?”

Sid takes it from him. “It’s a calendar thing? Says Frisco, Razor, filming.”

“Ahhh shit,” Tyler says, “It’s a thing for the jumbotron, I forgot. What time does it say?”

“1pm,” Sid says. It’s 11am now, so at least he isn’t late.

“At least I’m not late,” Tyler echos. “Okay, I’m going to drop you home, shower and head out but it shouldn’t take too long. You going to be okay by yourself?”

“I’ll manage,” Sid says. He pulls his sticky shirt away from his skin, grimy with pollen and dirt, and his hair is thick with sweated-out gel. A cool shower and second breakfast sounds perfect.

“You going to take care of Sid, Cash?” Tyler says. Cash barks. “Good boy.”

***

Tyler wanders into the living room with a glass of water. Sid’s stretched out on the couch face down, one arm tucked up under a pillow. Marshall is laying on the floor right beside his head, and Cash has taken up the other corner of the couch. They’re all sleeping. Tyler’s stomach twists. It’s maybe the best thing he’s ever seen. 

Cash raises his head, so Tyler puts his glass down and gently shoos him out of the way, Marshall following him out. Tyler sits down at the end of the couch by Sid’s feet and watches Sid’s shoulders rise and fall beyond the curves of his ass. Sid’s eyes open when the dogs flop down loudly in the hallway, tags jingling, and he smiles.

“Hey,” Sid says, voice quiet and a little hoarse. “You’re back.”

“Hi,” Tyler says back, not even trying to hold back his smile. “Sorry, it took longer than I thought.” He runs a hand up Sid’s leg, squeezing gently at the tendons at the ankle and pushing into tight calf muscles. 

He’s thinking about doing more than that when his phone chimes.

_what up man wanna come out :beer emoji: :taco emoji:_

Tyler rubs at Sid’s ankles a little more, and Sid puts his head back down on the pillow and closes his eyes again.

 _maybe in a few days got a couple things here_ Tyler writes back.

 _alright dude_ Blackie writes. Tyler puts his phone on the arm of the couch and it immediately chimes with another message from Blackie. It just says _get it_ followed by five eggplant emojis. He and Blackie understand each other, Tyler thinks.

“Jamie again?” Sid asks, sleepily. He wriggles down into the couch and turns his head toward Tyler, his face soft. 

“Nah.” Tyler rubs slowly up the back of Sid’s calf, palm spanning the hard muscle “Blackie. Wanted to see if I wanted to go out.” 

“Oh sorry.” Sid shifts like he’s about to get off the couch. “You should, if you have plans.”

“I’m right where I want to be,” Tyler says. He wants to grab every second he can with Sid. “I can see Blackie any time, he’s with the Stars in Austin. Who knows when I’ll see you?”

“October,” Sid says, promptly.

“Not like this,” Tyler says, testing.

“Maybe not on the ice,” Sid says, lazily. He stretches out on the sofa, a long, satisfied ripple of a stretch, and says “mmmmmmmmm” happily. “But after, if there’s time.” Tyler rubs higher, up the back of Sid’s calf and the ticklish place at the back of his knee. “Keep doing that,” Sid says hazily. “Feels good.”

Tyler leans down and kisses his ear.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah-oh.” The catch in Sid’s breath isn’t pleasure, but a hitch of pain and Tyler freezes, hand up the back of Sid’s shorts.

“Sorry,” he says. “Did I hit a- oh. Dude. That is a BRUISE.” It’s mostly green-yellow, nearly healed, but still big enough to be sore, a fist-sized patch on the outside of Sid’s thigh. 

Sid’s shoulders move as he laughs. “One of the kids shot a bit wild and I didn’t get out of the way. I wasn’t wearing any padding, just track pants.”

“Kids?” Tyler asks. He avoids the bruise and skates his hand up the inside of Sid’s thigh, as high as the shorts allow. Exploring, aimlessly curious now that he has time. His fingers brush the edge of Sid’s briefs and he plays with the edge of the elastic.

“School,” Sid says, shifting down against the sofa. “Hockey school back home. It was a lot of fun.”

“You like working with kids,” Tyler says. It’s not really a question - even seeing him yesterday, it’s clear. 

Sid turns to prop himself up on one elbow and Tyler reluctantly takes his hand out of Sid’s shorts to let him move. He sits on the floor instead, cross-legged at the side of the couch.

Sid grins. “They’re funny,” he says. “It’s fun, working on stuff with them. My coaches back home helped me so much when I was a kid - it feels right to try and give that back.”

Tyler leans against the arm of the couch so he can see Sid’s smile better. “You do the whole thing? Stickhandling, shoot outs, the lot?” He can see it pretty clearly, all the kids barely coming up to Sid’s waist.

“Not just me,” Sid says, “Nate, and Taylor, and actual coaches. Some of them were my pee wee coaches. I could have done it anywhere, and we talked about doing it in Pittsburgh, but I knew I wanted to do it back home, and so did Taylor and Nate.”

“Did they have much choice?” Tyler teases. “Or did they just find out this was their summer training, no questions?”

“They could have said no!” Sid protests. “Nate pretends like I volunteered him but he was all for it. And I hardly ever get to do stuff with Taylor.” 

Tyler thinks back to meeting Taylor at worlds. It’s mostly foggy though exhaustion, elation and champagne but he remembers a girl with Sid’s determined face and a fierce pride in her brother, and thinks she probably does exactly as she pleases. Nate, of course, follows Sid like Cash follows food so that at least would have been easy.

“Your sister’s a goalie, eh?” he says. Sitting on the floor talking about hockey schools isn’t how he thought this afternoon would go but Sid lights up talking about her, about the kids, and he likes seeing it. They’ve no rush. It’s nice seeing this part of Sidney. 

“Like our dad,” Sid nods. “She’s at school now, but it’s hard. I mean, it’s always hard for goalies right? You only need two, or three. But it’s even harder for her. I always knew hockey could be my life, if I was good enough, worked hard enough.”

“But she’s got four years, probably,” Tyler says. Sid looks at him, surprised. “My sisters play too,” Tyler says. “I know what it’s like. I mean, they could play for the Furies, or the Thunder, but -”

“Can’t make a living at it,” Sid finishes for him. “And they can’t be as good at it as they could be, if it’s not their whole job. Taylor’s fine at the moment, she has the NCAA, but it’s not fair that I get a career, and she doesn’t.”

“There’s that new professional league,” Tyler vaguely remembers reading about it in THN. “Maybe by the time she graduates there’ll be a team for her.”

“More than four teams, you mean,” Sid says. “Maybe.”

“Gotta start somewhere. NHL started with six,” Tyler points out. Sid’s expression slides from rueful to surprised.

“What?” Tyler says. “I can’t know that?”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Sid says. “It’s just usually me with the history, that’s all.”

“Keeping you on your toes,” Tyler says, reaching up to poke him in the shoulder.

“Anyway, Taylor’s career aside, we had fun,” Sidney says. “The kids seemed to enjoy it, and they all improved so much. They even sang happy birthday to me; I think someone got video.”

“You spent your birthday teaching kids to play hockey?” Tyler asks. It’s perfectly Sid. He’s not sure why he’s surprised.

“Best way to spend it.” Sid says, like he honestly means it. Tyler huffs a laugh, no other answer.

“Oh hey,” Sid says. “Talking about kids playing hockey - I told a guy at the fair to look at the Stars for a kids’ hockey programme - figured you’d do something like we do for the Little Penguins? Help them out with the cost of equipment?”

“I think so,” Tyler says, “I mean, there’s tons of like, charity programmes, so I’m sure there’s a kids’ one. There’s loads of community stuff like Pev’s heart disease campaign. Oh, and sled hockey. Those guys are badass - that shit’s _hard_.”

Above him, Sid giggles.

“Oh dude, I did a Gatorade thing with a sled hockey team. They were great; I could barely fit into the sled.”

Tyler joins in with the giggles. “That giant ass,” he says, fondly.

“You love it,” Sid says, confidently. “Seem to remember you feeling it up not thirty minutes ago.”

Tyler tilts his head up so he can kiss Sid, smiling. “Yep,” he says. “It’s a hell of an ass.”

Sid slips his hand round the back of Tyler’s neck, fingers threading through the curls, and kisses him again, lazy and thorough. Tyler gets onto his knees so the angle’s better. It’s a different kind of conversation, but just as unhurried and happy, pleasure and growing familiarity in the catch and press of their mouths.

“Hmmm,” Sid murmurs, eyelashes brushing Tyler’s cheeks as he blinks slowly. “You could go back to that, please.”

“To what?” Tyler asks, against his lips. 

“Feeling it up,” Sid’s mouth curves into a grin against his. “I kind of distracted you with hockey talk.”

“You were half asleep,” Tyler says.

“I was waiting for you,” Sid says, pulling him closer and kissing him again. “I like you, on top of me. Please.”

And well, Tyler’s never going to turn that down.

“I’ll get right on it,” he says.

“Get right on me,” Sid says and Tyler has to lean forward for one more kiss.

Sid sighs out a happy sound and rolls over onto his stomach, so Tyler kneels beside him, sliding his hands along the outside of Sid’s thigh, digging his thumbs firmly into Sid’s hamstring until he reaches the base of his ass. He pauses there and just looks for a minute. Sid tilts the corner of his mouth up. Tyler’s getting hard again, and he shifts up onto the couch, straddling Sid’s thighs. He moves his hands to grip into the sides of Sid’s ass, thumbs cupped around the base, fingers stretched wide. 

Sid wriggles and Tyler clamps his legs down instinctively, as if he could hold Sid in place.

Sid smiles wider, invitingly, and Tyler is hopelessly, hopelessly fond. He leans forward and kisses the back of Sid’s neck, right in the centre, and then behind his ear, still hanging on to Sid’s ass and pressing his weight into Sid’s solid bulk.

“Hey,” Sid says again, and Tyler kisses his jaw. “Do you remember Milwaukee?” Tyler’s hips push forward and his fingers dig into Sid’s ass. “Uh. Yes,” Tyler says, intelligently. 

“I liked that,” Sid says, eyes wide open now, looking over his shoulder. He wiggles his butt, and Tyler blinks. “Oh,” he says. “Yes. I remember. I definitely remember.”

He sits back and runs his hands over the top of Sid’s ass, pulling lightly at the waistband of Sid’s shorts. 

“Sid, I will be getting it up for that memory when I’m in the nursing home. It’ll be the last thing I remember. I’ll be 90 years old and in a wheelchair and thinking about it.”

“If you wanted,” Sid says, and he’s blushing a little.

“I want,” Tyler rushes out. “I definitely want.”

Sid blushes more, face and neck turning bright pink, but keeps looking at Tyler from the corner of his eye. Tyler leans forward again, drops another quick kiss at the top of Sid’s spine, then replaces his mouth with his hand, rubbing a soothing circle before wrapping his hand around Sid’s neck and pressing down.

Sid lets him, neck warm under Tyler’s palm and all of the solid mass of him going soft and easy. 

“Oh my god Sid,” Tyler breathes, and grinds his dick hard against Sid’s ass, firm under his thighs. Sid hums and settles further into the couch, his face half-hidden against his arm but still smiling and flushed. Tyler suddenly feels like there’s too much distance between them, like he can’t resist the pull of Sid’s skin. Keeping one hand on Sid’s neck, Tyler smooths his palm over the expanse of Sid’s back and watches the muscles move as Sid twitches, the strong ropes of muscle on either side of his spine flexing and creating an even deeper channel than usual. 

Tyler tugs the waistband of Sid’s shorts down just far enough to dig his thumbs into the dimples at the base of his spine. Sid helpfully lifts his hips up, jostling Tyler’s seat. “Hey!” Tyler laughs, smacking the side of Sid’s ass.

“Sorry,” Sid says, giggling and not sorry at all.

“I can tell,” Tyler says, and pulls Sid’s shorts down around his thighs. Sid’s starting to flush down his back, and the temptation to tickle his ribs is almost irresistible. Tyler pokes him a couple of times and Sid squawks and twists around, bending sideways at the waist to reach back and grab at Tyler’s forearm, pulling forward.

Tyler retaliates by jabbing a knee into Sid’s ribs for leverage, which works until Sid yanks on his arm and throws Tyler flat onto the floor between the couch and the coffee table, grinning triumphantly. Tyler lands with a thud and Sid’s hand hot on his chest. 

Sid’s eyes sparkle down at him from his position on the couch, where he’s still laying on his stomach with his shorts around his thighs. He’s propped his chin up on his right hand, the only concession he’d needed to make to toss Tyler around like a toy.

“I win,” Sid says, grinning and pushing his tongue against the back of his teeth, triumphant.

“Okay,” Tyler chirps weakly, “but you’re the one with your ass hanging out.”

“Yeah,” Sid says, looking pointedly down at Tyler’s dick, more than half hard in his sweats.

“Yeah,” Tyler replies softly, and spreads his legs wide. Tyler watches as Sid reaches down for Tyler’s cock, tugging the fabric of his pants gently. The friction makes a quiet shushing sound against his boxers, and Tyler takes a deep breath against the sensation. He feels suddenly caught, and looks up at Sid, just _wanting_. 

Sid, chin still propped up on his palm, seems focused on watching Tyler’s cock shift under his touch, smile gone smaller and a little private, like he’s found something new. But he looks up when he feels Tyler watching him, tilts his head and licks his bottom lip. 

“Tyler,” Sid says, eyes hot. “I _won_.” He manages to sound whiny and challenging at the same time, and Tyler’s heart twists, because Sid sounds like Tyler’s some kind of prize. He sits up and kisses Sid, soft and warm, losing himself in the feel of Sid’s mouth until they’re both breathing hard. Sid pulls back and Tyler realizes he’s still sitting on the floor when he could be on Sid’s ass instead. That Sid is, actually, waiting for him to do just that. 

Tyler stretches up, knees cool on the tile, traces his fingers down Sid’s spine to the top of his ass and keeps going, pushing down and between until he reaches Sid’s hole. On Sid’s quick gasp he rubs two fingers back and forth, feeling Sid flex and clench under him.

“Fuck, Sid.” His own voice is hoarse now. 

“Yeah,” Sid shudders out, hips pushing into the couch cushions. “Yes.” 

Tyler drops a kiss on Sid’s shoulder, turns the hand on Sid’s ass to the side and digs his fingers in hard, pulling Sid’s ass cheek open, exposing him to the air. Sid groans and it sounds as desperate as Tyler feels. He scrambles up from the floor and onto the couch, back over Sid’s massive thighs, back where he was……however long ago that was. He wraps his hands around Sid’s waist, scoots further down the couch and licks into the top of Sid’s amazing ass, wet and sloppy, shoving his chin in and making room for himself. 

Tyler has jerked off to the memory of rimming Sid since the day he got home from the awards in Milwaukee. When he’s in a hurry, he thinks about the noises Sid had made and the way he’d twisted around Tyler’s tongue. But when he has more time, he thinks about the way Sid had smiled and opened himself up, the way he’d trusted Tyler, the way his honking laugh had filled the room and later carried across the snowy streets of a closed-down city. 

He remembers all of it now as he feels the pull of his beard along tender skin and is viciously glad to be where he is. He slides both thumbs down Sid’s ass and dives directly in, shoving his tongue as far into Sid as he can.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Sid groans out, and pushes back against him. Tyler digs his hands more firmly into Sid’s ass, fingers pointing toward his hips and digging in. Tyler keeps just shoving his tongue in and out with no finesse at all, greedy for it, until Sid’s doing nothing but chanting “fuck fuck fuck,” and Tyler’s breathing has gone ragged. 

When Tyler pauses and pulls back, Sid heaves a shuddering breath, head hanging down, waiting. His ass has gone red from friction. Tyler runs a thumb across the edge of Sid’s hole, and he will never get tired of watching Sid give it up for him, the way he goes soft and easy, trusting that Tyler will make them both happy. 

Tyler smiles, he can’t help it. “Dude. You look amazing.”

Sid sighs. “You could get back to making me feel amazing.” Tyler can hear the grin in Sid’s voice.

In answer Tyler pushes his thumb inside Sid, sliding into the tight slick heat of his body. Sid moans quietly into his forearm, and the sound of it makes Tyler want to wreck him, pull him apart until he can’t hold back anymore.

Tyler licks gently around his thumb until Sid starts shifting his weight from knee to knee, his breathing getting short and heavy again. Tyler pulls his thumb out and licks hard and flat before pushing his tongue back in and Sid gasps. Sweat drips off Tyler’s neck, but he feels like he could like he could keep this rhythm up forever if Sid would let him, because Sid is twisting around him, trying to give Tyler as much access as he can. Tyler _wants_ , and he pushes at Sid’s thigh until Sid’s got one foot on the floor, making more space. Sid props himself up on one arm and reaches with the other to stroke his cock. Tyler sinks both thumbs into Sid’s ass and licks between them, and Sid comes with a loud “ah!” thighs shaking against Tyler’s arms.

Tyler eases out and plants a kiss on the side of Sid’s ass, running his hands over the firm curves before shoving Sid over on his side so he’s laying against the couch cushions. Sid’s flushed and loose-limbed, and he smiles goofily at Tyler.

He’s beautiful. Tyler clambers up the couch until he can lay down and press himself against Sid, chest to hip to thigh, and tucks his face against Sid’s neck, breathing into the hot close space between them. He’s not hiding, exactly, but he needs a minute to think. Or not think. He feels hot and stretched a little thin, like something’s being dragged out of him that he didn’t expect. He feels really, really turned on. He grinds his hips and his cock pushes into Sid’s hip, which isn’t quite -

Sid’s arm falls heavy down around Tyler’s shoulders, pulling him even closer before wrapping around the base of his skull and pushing his fingers into Tyler’s hair.

“Hey,” Sid says, quietly, his voice a little scratchy.

“Hey,” Tyler says into Sid’s neck, and his hips twitch again. Sid shifts until his thigh is between Tyler’s, warm and solid, and it’s big enough that Tyler feels spread open. Heat pools in his belly and he chases the familiar pull of his own orgasm. He’s been waiting forever and he’s so close; he clamps his own legs around the press of Sid’s thigh and thrusts up against the firm muscle, coming hot and wet between them. He shoves through the slick of it a few more times, the warm drag drawing out the last shudders of pleasure.

Tyler wiggles out of Sid’s grip and flops over, eyes closed against the afternoon sun, the edginess of a few minutes before drifting away. Sid rests a hand on Tyler’s stomach and idly runs a finger through the mess of come.

“Why didn’t we do that in Prague?” Sid asks. “That was great.”

 

“Because we were both so tired we could hardly walk,” Tyler says. And then yawns so hard his face feels like it might break.

He drifts off for a few minutes, enjoying the cool breeze from the air conditioning and the heat where he’s tucked tight against Sid. His couch is huge, but Sid is thick even laying on his side, and Tyler’s sprawling leg is slipping off the edge. Sid wraps a strong arm around Tyler’s stomach, holding him in place.

Tyler’s just settling down into a real nap when Sid’s shoulders tighten up. “Tyler, your couch,” he says urgently. “I’m so sorry.” Tyler pries his eyes open, yawns, and resettles himself against Sid. 

“Eh,” he says, looking up at Sid. Sid’s eyebrows are up, and he actually looks concerned. “Don’t worry about it,” Tyler says, and pats Sid’s jaw, covered in light stubble after a couple of days of not shaving. Tyler’s eyes are falling shut again. 

“This couch has seen some things, Sid.” Tyler can’t help the little laugh that escapes him even as he closes his eyes completely. “Some _things_.”

“That doesn’t….Tyler. Get up. We need to clean up.” Sid’s determined now, already shifting around, and Tyler lets his leg flop down as Sid starts to crawl over him. Tyler tilts his head back and smiles sunnily. Sid’s face, two inches above his, is appalled, his eyes wide. Tyler crunches up so he can kiss Sid quickly as he passes over him. The couch is fairly gross, wet with sweat and come.

Tyler bites his lip and thinks about what to say, because Sid standing near the end of the couch, naked, with Tyler’s come running down his thigh, is one of the best things Tyler’s seen. He keeps thinking things like that, every time they’re together, but Sid keeps getting hotter. Right now his hair is standing on end, his lips are bright red, and he’s smiling impatiently. Tyler wants to keep him.

“You’ve got some...” Tyler says, gesturing at his thigh.

“Jesus,” Sid mutters, and wipes at his leg before walking toward the stairs. Tyler admires the view for a minute before getting up. He scoops his phone up from where it’s fallen on the floor; the screen flashes, full of messages.

:eggplant:  
:hot dog:  
:banana:  
:chilli pepper:  
:pineapple:

Blackie’s sent every vaguely dick-shaped emoji, ending with 

:cactus: idk bro maybe you’re freaky. 

In contrast, Jamie’s text reminds him to drink water and put aloe on his fake sunburn. Tyler laughs and checks his nose in the mirror in the hallway, just in case it really is peeling.

“Coming?” Sid calls from the stairs.

“Right behind you,” Tyler says, putting his phone safe on the table and follows Sid’s seriously excellent back view up the stairs, and into the bathroom.

***

"Do you want to see some more of the city?" Tyler calls from the bathroom the next morning.

"Sure," Sid says. He stretches out, pushing the sheets down with his feet. "Why not, can't stay here all the time."

"Aww are you bored already?" Tyler shouts, indistinctly. Sid thinks he's probably brushing his teeth.

"Didn't say that," he says. "But I pretty much only ever see the rink here. Might be nice to see a bit more."

The dogs perk up their ears when Tyler stoops to put his flip flops on, sitting tall and thumping their tails on the floor.

"You mind if they come with us?" Tyler asks.

"No," Sid says, because he doesn't. "But won't they have to stay in the car a lot? It's pretty hot out."

"Sid," Tyler grins up at him. "As if I don't know everywhere I can take my babies."

"Okay then," Sid says. He finds his sunglasses on the entry way table, tangled up in dog leashes. 

"Need this?" he asks, holding out the blue leash.

"Yeah, grab both?" Tyler asks. He clicks his tongue and the dogs follow him to the garage and leap into the backseat. Sid slides into the passenger seat and settles his shades on his nose. Outside of the AC it's baking hot, the heat bouncing off the sidewalks, sun bright dry yellow, high in the sky.

Tyler drives with one hand on the wheel and the other gesturing, pointing things out, touching Sid's shoulder or thigh, like he's reassuring himself Sid's still there.

"Seen much of the city?" Tyler asks

"Not really," Sid says. "At this point unless I really love or really hate somewhere they all kind of bleed into one."

"Yeah," Tyler pats his knee. "I can tell you about every patch of ice but I'm not sure I could describe Sunrise or Glendale outside of the rink."

"Boston though, right?" Sid asks.

"Like you said. Love it or hate it." Tyler looks across at him, smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

"Which is it?" Sid asks, because he can't really imagine being moved like that. Hopes he never has to find out.

"Both, at the end," Tyler says seriously. "I mean, great memories there." He rubs over his ribs, over the date and the team name that Sid tries to avoid touching when they’re naked. "Bergy and Marchy, it was where I made it. But it's - kind of like a really bad break up." He laughs. "Just gotta try and get over it and date someone better, you know?”

"And have you?" Sid asks.

"I love Dally," Tyler grins. "We're building something special here, me and Jamie and the rest of the guys. It's a good place to be. Even if well, you'll see. Most of the city doesn't give a shit about hockey."

"You'll fix that," Sid says, because it seems outrageous that they have Tyler, they have _Jamie_ , and don’t realise what a gift that is.

"We will," Tyler says, and pats his knee. "Even though right after the trade it was kind of nice to not get recognised all the time." He pulls off onto an exit ramp and they're suddenly among skyscrapers, one in the distance lit up blue and white even in the middle of the day.

“See that one?” Tyler points at it. "They light it up green with a white star when we win. Gonna be green a lot this season."

The dogs suddenly sit up and bark, sticking their heads up to the window.

"Shh settle down," Tyler calls. "They think they're going to the AAC," he explains.

"You took your dogs to _work_?" Sid asks.

"Not all the time!" Tyler protests. "My dog sitter flaked out on me a couple months ago and I couldn't find anyone quick enough so they came in with me for a week. The back office guys spoiled them rotten so now every time we take this exit they think we're going back."

Sid twists round so he can talk to the dogs. "Sorry guys," he says. "Just me this time."

Tyler parks in a valet lot near the river. The sun sparkles off the water and Sid's glad he has his shades in the blinding glare of the mid morning sun. The dogs jump down and wait patiently for their leashes.

"You want?" Tyler says, holding out Marshall's leash.

"Sure," Sid says. He takes the leash and is rewarded with a huge smile.

"There's another dog park about five blocks that way." Tyler points. "It goes past some of the buildings and shit, if you want to see them."

"Oh, _buildings_ ," Sid teases.

"Hey," Tyler starts walking and Sid catches up, holding Marshall to his right so the leashes don't tangle. "I normally give the mom tour or the bro tour. It's too early for bars and I don't think you're a fancy mall kid of guy."

"What gave you that idea?" Sid asks.

"I've seen how you dress," Tyler says. "No way you spend any longer than you have to anyplace that sells clothes other than hockey jerseys.”

Sid'd protest but he's aware that his shorts are years old, his shirt was a gift, and he stole the hat from Tyler. So. He's not really in a position to throw stones.

"And the bro tour?" he says, "Are you saying that we aren't bros?" He can't get to the end of the sentence without laughing. Tyler joins in, that delighted giggle that Sid's gotten so fond of. 

"Hey, we can do it," he says, "I just didn't have you down for day drinking." They pause at the crosswalk, the dogs sitting at Tyler's command.

"Building are good," Sid cranes his neck up to look. "There's a fuckton of skyscrapers."

"Oil money, baby," Tyler says in a terrible Texas accent. "I like it. The skyline reminds me of home. Plenty of glass and steel in Toronto." The lights change and they cross. "I miss it, sometimes," he says, softly.

"I think we all miss home," Sid says. "Even when we've been away a long time."

Tyler's arm flexes as he pulls Cash in close to his side, out of the path of a woman with a poodle. The tattooed street sign catches Sid's eye. 

"Is that what this is for?" Sid taps his finger quickly on the top of the tower. "To remind you of home?"

Tyler shrugs. "Partly. Mostly because I think it looks cool. But yeah, it's nice to have my home with me, sort of."

"Hmm," Sid says. "I never thought of that particular way of beating homesickness. Though I don't think they'd give 14 year olds tattoos of the sea."

Tyler grins. "Nothing stopping you getting one now. I can take you to my girl if you like. Part of the tour."

"Not really me," Sid laughs. "Can you imagine?"

"Yeah," Tyler lowers his voice. "I can. It would be really hot."

Sid shakes his head. "Not for me. There's guys on the team with them but it's never really appealed."

"Shame," Tyler says.

"What, I'm not hot now?" Sid teases.

Tyler takes a step behind him and Sid can _feel_ his eyes track down his body. He fights the urge to turn round.

"Still hot," Tyler catches up and breathes in his ear. "Of course."

"Glad to hear it," Sid says.

Tyler leads them around seemingly at random, pointing out cool looking old buildings, hopping bars, and the weirdest public art.

“That’s a giant eyeball,” Sid says. It’s bigger than Tyler’s massive truck and just sits there, on a patch of grass, staring at them.

“Yup,” Tyler says.

“It’s fucking _creepy_.” It’s disturbing, unblinking. He feels on display, like he’s facing banks of media. 

Tyler shrugs. “There’s loads of weird sculpture round here,” he says. “I think it’s meant to make the place look fancy.”

The eye stares on, blue, round and unblinking.

“Can we move on?” Sid says, giving his shoulders a little shake.

“What, you don’t like the sculpture?” Tyler says. “There’s a whole herd of metal cows further on, if that’s less scary.” He pokes at Sid with the hand not holding a leash.

“I’m not _scared_ it’s just weird,” Sid protests. 

Tyler clicks his tongue to get the dogs moving and they cross the street and turn the corner, leaving the eyeball behind.

“Really, metal cows?” Sid says. 

“Yeah, a whole cattle drive of them, in the plaza. It’s pretty much always full of tourists but we can go if you like.”

“You’re really selling it,” Sid says, because it’s the least enthusiastic he’s heard Tyler sound all day.

“No, we can go if you want to take pictures or whatever,” Tyler says. “Just if you’re trying to keep under the radar it might be a bad plan - more people means more chance of being recognised.” He pauses outside a pet store that has bowls of water outside and lets the dogs drink, splashing water out on the sidewalk.

“When did I say I wanted to stay under the radar?” Sid says, because Tyler’s voice has gone tight, and it kind of sounds like Tyler thinks he’s ashamed. 

“Okay, you want to go and sign autographs for the rest of the day?” Tyler asks. He’s looking at the ground, but his hand brushes the back of Sid’s as they walk close together. Sid wants to hold his hand. He won’t, but he wants to.

“No,” Sid says, honestly. “I’d rather just stay with you and explore.”

“That’s what I hoped you’d say,” Tyler says. His phone chimes and he pulls it out of his pocket and taps away before slipping it back in. “Okay, I think we need to go this way next.” He points, and Sid and the dogs follow.

They’re _not_ moving at random, Sid eventually realises. They’re hitting a lot of historical places. Sid reads plaques about cattle drives, an old log cabin, a hundred-year old theatre, and JFK. As he straightens up from reading about a failed attempt to dig a deep water port, he catches Tyler smiling at him, and his breath catches at how fond he looks.

“You _are_ taking me on a tour,” he says. “No way did we just stumble across all this.”

“I might have looked up historical shit,” Tyler admits. “Call it the Sid tour.”

“You didn’t have to,” Sid says, touched. 

“I thought you might like it,” Tyler says softly. “I, uh, wanted you to enjoy yourself.” He smiles, dimple popping in his cheek. “I’m making an effort. What next - the original Nieman-Marcus, or one of the earliest brick schools?” 

Sid wipes his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Do either of them have air conditioning?” The air is thick with humidity and pollen and he coughs and drinks the last of his water. “I could stand to be inside.”

“Oh dude.” Tyler pats him on the back. “Yeah, sorry. It’s pretty much like this all summer. You get used to it.”

“You might,” Sid says.

“Come on.” Tyler leads them down a side street, walking in the shade. “There’s a good place for lunch just along here. I promise they have air conditioning.”

Tyler pushes open the door to the cafe.

"Be good," he says softly to the dogs.

"You want to sit and I'll get whatever?" Sid says. It's the lunchtime rush and the comfy looking brown sofa looks like it’s in danger of being taken out from under their noses.

"Sure." Tyler throws himself onto the sofa and the dogs lie quietly, nose to tail, in the space to the side, while Tyler checks his phone. It's not the biggest cafe in the world but there's a dog-friendly sign in the window and a bowl of water under it, so Sid guesses they're staying. "Get me an iced vanilla latte and -" Tyler eyes the menu board. "The double BLT with avocado?"

"Anything for the dogs?" Sid asks. He's teasing but Tyler actually considers it for a minute.

"No," he says, eventually. "They have water, they'll be fine."

The line is long enough that Sid has time to consider several options before settling on the turkey club with mustard-mayo and a mango smoothie.

"Your friend's dogs are cute," the woman at the counter says over the rattle of the blender. Sid suspects she means _Tyler's_ cute but he says, “Yeah, they are." He smiles at her. "It's pretty hot out for them though, glad they could rest in here in the shade."

"If you think this is hot I guess you're not a local," she says, glancing over at Tyler again. Sid can't blame her. Tyler’s sweating just enough to sheen his arms, tattoos gleaming, and making besotted faces at the dogs. It is, as she said, pretty cute.

"Not so much," he agrees. He gets his card back and juggles the drinks, a giant bag of chips and two bottles of water. "I'll be back for the sandwiches," he says, running out of hands.

"Take your time," she says, and turns to the next person in line.

The mustard-mayo option is a little _too_ mustard-y, as it turns out. Sid finishes it anyway because he's starving and Tyler flatly refuses to swap half of his BLT.

"Should have asked me for advice," Tyler says around a mouthful of sandwich. "Always go with the classics."

"Have you been here before?" Sid asks. He looks down to see two identical pairs of pleading Lab eyes, but Tyler's says he’s strict about human food, so Sid just says "Sorry guys," and pats them both on the head.

"Once or twice," Tyler says. "I know most of the places I can take the kids.”

Tyler heaves a sigh as his phone chimes again. “Ugh. Hang on, sorry.” He stabs at his keyboard for a minute and then turns the phone to show Sid. “Look at these.”

Sid looks at a picture of dress shoes and looks back at Tyler. Tyler’s face is scrunched up, his mouth turned down. 

“They’re shoes,” Sid says, because Tyler seems to be expecting a response.

Tyler looks at him and sighs. “Sid. Never wear shoes like that.” Sid has had shoe conversations with his tailor, Kris, PK, and Jen, so he changes the subject.

“Who’s sending you shoe pictures?” he asks. 

“Jamie,” Tyler replies. “He’s out shopping with his mom and Jenny.”

That explains the quiet chiming Sid’s heard all morning, and he suddenly feels a little awkward. “Oh, do you - should you be - were you guys going to hang out today?”

Tyler puts his phone down and smiles across at him. “Dude, we see each other every day. As long as I can keep him from buying anything he can’t return, we’re fine.” 

He kicks at Sid’s shins under the table, tilting his head. “I can turn it off, if you want.”

Sid thinks about it for a minute, torn between wanting Tyler all to himself, and knowing that’s probably unfair. 

“No,” Sid says, thinking guiltily about all the invitations Tyler’s probably already turned down this weekend. “You have to save Jamie from himself.” 

Tyler beams at him and keeps poking out messages on his phone and eating his chips while Sid washes down his sandwich with the rest of his smoothie.

Two rejected shoe choices later, Tyler's licking chip grease off his fingers and Sid's trying not to stare. He's pretty much failing, but he's sure he's not the only one. The barista is taking a really long time to wipe down the table next to theirs. 

“Okay," he says, maybe a little loudly, to fill the silence. The barista abruptly turns to another table as Tyler refocuses on Sid.

"Plans for this afternoon?" Tyler asks. He crumples the empty chip bag.

"What, the tour's already finished?" Sid asks.

"You're already a little pink," Tyler pokes at him with his foot, sneaker nudging against his calf. "How about we get you somewhere else with air conditioning?"

"Back to yours?" Sid asks. He scrapes the bottom of his glass with the straw. "I thought we were going to do something different?"

"I'm sure we can come up with something to pass the time." Tyler presses his foot tighter against Sid's leg. Sid lets himself smile down at the table.

"I have some ideas," he says. "Maybe."

"What would those be?" Tyler asks. The ice cubes rattle in his empty cup as he sets it down on the table.

"Take me home and find out," Sid says.

***

“Ping Pong?” Tyler says. He’s not _against_ it, as an idea, but he was expecting something just as energetic but way more naked.

“It’s a good workout,” Sid says. He bounces the pingpong ball of the table with little snapping movements of his wrists, catching with alternate hands. Left. Right. Left. Right. It’s kind of mesmerising. “Good for fast reactions and coordination,” he continues. “And you have a ping pong table. You must like playing it.”

Tyler shrugs. He has the table because there’s space for it, pretty much.

“It’s fun to play with the guys,” he says. “I do this charity ping pong thing back home every year, but it’s not, like, serious. It’s just for fun.”

“That sounds like someone who isn’t any _good_ ,” Sid says. He bounces the ball quicker and quicker, snapping it off the table and catching it before it gets too high. 

And well. Tyler wouldn’t be as good at his job as he is without being competitive.

“Good enough to beat you,” he says, reaching for the paddles.

“We’ll see,” Sid smiles that sweet, media smile and bounces the ball again. 

***

“How do you still have that backhand in a completely different _sport_ ,” Tyler wails, three losses later.

Sid stands up out of his crouch. “Practice,” he sticks his tongue between his teeth, “just like everything else.”

“When do you find _time_ to get this good?” Tyler’s aware he’s whining a bit but he’s also being comprehensively beaten. Sid’s reactions are sharp and the backhand is unreadable, spinning off the paddle and beating Tyler seemingly at will.

“It’s fun,” Sid shrugs. “I play with friends back home, there’s a table at the practice rink. And you know. The Olympics. There’s a doubles league.”

Tyler settles back down, ready. “A doubles league,” he says. 

“Uh huh,” Sid bounces the ball a couple times then serves. It whips almost past Tyler before he can get the paddle to it. Sid snaps it back and this time Tyler doesn’t reach it. His back twinges as he bends to collect it.

“Who was your partner?” Tyler asks, handing the ball over. 

“Shea,” Sid grins. “Figured the extra height would be useful.” He looks so sweetly bland and wholesome that Tyler laughs.

“Did you _hustle_ the Olympians, Sidney?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sid says. “We did win though.” The ball whizzes by, a wicked backspin. “Just like now,” Sid says, smug, and pulls up the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. 

Tyler appreciates the view and gives up, tossing his paddle down.

“I know when I’m outmatched,” he says. “Let’s call it quits.”

“Sore loser,” Sid says, grinning.

“Like you’re any better?” Tyler says. 

“Loser buys dinner,” Sid says, ignoring the question. “I feel like steak.”

“We could grill here?” Tyler suggests.

“Still cranky about not getting to do it at the fair?” Sid asks. 

“Well, that. And the bed’s closer,” Tyler says, catching Sid around the waist and rubbing his nose against Sid’s cheek. The scruff tickles.

“Oh?” Sid says, wide-eyed and innocent. “Are you tired?”

“Really tired,” Tyler smiles and kisses his cheek. “I’ll probably need an early night.”

Sid can’t hold the laugh in, and Tyler grins.

“Come on,” Tyler says. “I was denied cooking meat with fire and you’re going to help me put that right.” Tyler’s been thinking about actually getting to grill things since the fair, and he’s not going to be denied, damn it. Plus, this is cow country, and Sid needs the whole Texas experience.

Tyler gathers the stuff from the kitchen, including the Superman apron he got in last year’s Stars’ Secret Santa. Sid leans against the grill and hands him things.

“I’m not seeing you help,” Tyler says as he pokes at the steaks and the ears of corn. Sid moves his hip against Tyler’s.

“I’m the guest,” he says, but he sets out the plates on the patio table and divides the potato salad between them, moving easily around Tyler’s yard like he already knows where Tyler’s going to be.

Tyler’s always been someone who carried his home with him, put it on his skin and in his heart, wherever he is. Something about Sid’s grin and the way he occupies space folds him into home here. He feels right, like he’d slide into Tyler’s Dallas life given the chance and the choice. 

Tyler wants to give him that choice.

Sid’s shout reminds him that the steaks are still on the grill, and in danger of being too well-done. Tyler’s acclimatised enough to Texas that anything beyond bloody is ruined. Sid reaches past him to get at the steaks and Tyler snaps the tongs at him.

“My job,” he says.

“Then do it and stop daydreaming,” Sid laughs. “Come on, I’m starving.”

“I wasn’t daydreaming,” Tyler says, but Sid’s making impatient hands for the plate of steaks and corn, so he doesn’t have to explain what he _was_ thinking about.

It’s cool enough to eat outside this late in the evening. They make short work of the steaks and move onto dessert. The solar lamps flicker as Sid finishes the last of his cheesecake and looks at the remains of Tyler’s.

“Mine,” Tyler warns him in the same voice he uses to remind the dogs they don’t get people food.

“Spoilsport,” Sid says, and gets up from the table. He wonders over towards the pool. Tyler shoves the last bite of dessert into his mouth.

“Hey,” he calls after him, “didn’t your mom never tell you to not swim right after you’ve eaten?”

He’s...pretty sure it’s just an urban legend, but his grandmother’s horror stories stayed with him. Sid’s stomach probably won’t explode. Probably.

Sid’s laugh floats back to him.

“I’m just putting my feet in,” he says, stepping out of his flipflops and settling on the edge of the pool. He splashes his feet in the water. Tyler brings his beer over and joins him. The water laps gently over his feet. Sid shuffles closer and puts his head on his shoulder, like it’s automatic. 

“It just looks pretty,” Sid says, kicking his feet slowly. It is pretty, Tyler supposes, with the moon rising in the sky and the lamps reflecting off the water. “I like this pool,” Sid adds, “I’d be in the water all the time if I had one.”

“What, your place doesn’t have room for one?” Tyler stretches his arm out behind Sid so he fits into the curve of it.

“Too cold in Pittsburgh for most of the year,” Sid says. “Unless I get an indoor pool, then what’s the point?”

“Back home then,” Tyler says, “for over the summer.”

“I have a _lake_ ,” Sid sounds amused, “I don’t need a pool there.” 

“A whole lake?” Tyler teases.

“Well, part of one.” Sid tucks himself into Tyler’s side, getting comfy. “My place has a boat landing, and kind of a stoney beach. You can swim in the lake in summer, or in the ocean, if you don’t mind the cold.”

“You miss the sea,” Tyler says. “I remember - Marchy used to say he was glad at least Boston has a harbour.”

Sid hmmms. “It gets into your bones,” he says, slowly. “When you grow up with it. The sound of the waves, the smell. You always miss it. The sea is part of you. Marchy has the harbour, Pittsburgh has the rivers, but it’s not really the same.” Sid’s voice is soft, like he’s the one daydreaming now. “You could come see it, my lake I mean. Next summer.”

“Yeah?” Tyler says. 

“It’s a pretty lake,” Sid says.

“I’d like that,” Tyler says, leaning against Sid.

“Me too,” Sid says, and his hand finds Tyler’s and holds on.

They sit like that for a while, feet splashing in the pool. It’s quiet, and cooler, and Tyler’s full of good food and Sid’s tucked right against him smelling like sunscreen and it’s so good Tyer laughs, just happy with it.

“What’s funny?” Sid asks.

“Nothing,” Tyler says truthfully. “Just happy. I like you being here.” It’s close enough to the truth, and he’s not sure how else to say it.

Sid reaches up, “I like being here,” he says and kisses him. It’s slow and easy, liquid almost. Sid’s feet leave the water with a splash as he pushes Tyler down onto the sun-warmed deck next to the pool. He nudges at the hem of Tyler’s tank. “Can I take this off? Why are you even wearing one?”

“Shirtless grilling is a bad idea, we’ve been over this.” Tyler chuckles, and pulls it off obligingly.

“Tell me the story. Later,” Sid says and leans back down to cover Tyler’s body with his own. The weight on top of him is really doing it for Tyler and he kisses Sid wetly, open mouthed and hungry. He runs his hands across Sid’s shoulders and down his back to the dip of his waist. Sid rubs his lips across his jaw and nibbles Tyler’s earlobe. Tyler giggles - it tickles and Sid’s not above making the most of that.

“Hmmm,” Sid says, and slithers lower so he can press kisses across Tyler’s collarbones. Tyler gasps and shoves up against Sid’s stomach, hooking his leg around Sid’s waist so he can get closer, pull Sid’s bulk even further against him, pressing him between the hot wood of the deck and heat of Sid’s weight until nothing else matters. This time it’s Sid that gasps. Tyler peels one hand off Sid’s ass to guide his mouth back to his and kisses him as the heat builds between them but he wants more, wants them both naked like this, just _wants_....

Wants Sid back where he was because suddenly he’s sitting up, leaning back on his heels. He rubs his hand across his mouth.

“Can I fuck you?” Sid asks. He squares his shoulders and it reminds Tyler of the first time they hooked up, Sid’s stubbornness and the edge of uncertainty, though he must be more than sure of Tyler’s response by now.

“Yes please,” Tyler says, as soon as he’s sure Sid’s done talking. “Dude, I’m pretty much always going to say yes to that. All you had to do was ask.”

“You could have asked,” Sid pushes his hand into his hair. He has so few physical tells to the media, it’s something precious that Tyler gets to see them, here. “When you didn’t, I thought maybe you didn’t want to.”

“I mean,” Tyler shifts up to his elbows so he can look Sid in the eye. “Some guys aren’t into it. And I know this is all still kind of new for you. Just because you’re into me eating your ass doesn’t necessarily mean you’d be into doing anything with mine.”

Sid’s cheeks flush. “I mean. You wouldn’t be the first. For that. But. I think I’d enjoy it more with you.”

Tyler wants that story but he also doesn’t want to ruin the mood.

“Also,” Tyler says, “it was in season, before. I didn’t want to fuck up our games.”

Sid giggles and Tyler plays back the sentence in his head. “Okay, bad choice of words but you know what I mean.”

“I think we would have got over a weird hookup,” Sid says. He squeezes Tyler’s arm. “I mean there’s plenty of other things we’re pretty good at.”

Tyler puts his hands flat on Sid’s thighs, palming the width of them. “Well, that, but also dude. I’ve seen your dick. And your thighs.I might be too worn out to skate.”

Sid blushes even deeper and Tyler manhandles him into his lap so he can kiss him. Sid goes, giggling and Tyler gets him arranged as he likes, seated on his thighs with his knees either side of Tyler’s hips. Tyler slides his hand up under Sid’s shirt, where the loose fabric pools at the small of his back before stretching tight over his shoulders. Sid tips his face down for another kiss. He’s still a little pink.

“You’re blushing,” Tyler says, kissing his cheek. “It’s really cute.”

“I can’t believe that you were worried I’d injure you with fucking,” Sid says. “And that you’d say that out loud.”

“I can’t believe you don’t hear it more,” Tyler says into the damp hollow of Sid’s throat. “It’s not like it’s a secret. You’re fucking built, dude.”

“For hockey,” Sid says, a little breathless. “Not for fucking.”

"For us, it's pretty much the same thing, eh?" Tyler says, and Sid laughs again and stands up, pulling Tyler up after him.

"I'm not even going to answer that," he says. "Bed."

"Bed," Tyler agrees, leaning in to kiss him. Sid doesn't let go of his hand all the way into the house and up the stairs.

***

Sid won't rush, no matter how Tyler tries to hurry him along.

"I'm appreciating you," Sid says, when Tyler suggests he might like to get on with it. "Let me enjoy - unless it doesn't feel good?" He pauses, fingers stilling, and Tyler might die.

"It feels _really_ good," Tyler says, twisting and trying to get more of Sid's fingers inside of him. "Let's get this show on the road."

"No need to rush," Sid says. "We've got all the time. You made me rush that time on the sofa." He sounds annoyed. "I promise it will be worth it. You know I'm all about doing the prep work." He rubs lightly at Tyler's rim, pushes just the very edge of his finger in, pulls it out again.

"Sid," Tyler twists to look over his shoulder at Sid crouching behind him. "I'm ready, come on."

Sid just shakes his head and leans forward to kiss his shoulder blade. "I'll get you there. Remember, you told me that, that first time? I’ve been thinking about this too long to rush."

"Can't say no to that," Tyler says, because he's been thinking about this too, and really, Sid's right. They have all the time they could possible want, for once. He lets his head drop back down between his braced forearms.

"Good," Sid kisses his shoulder again and then Tyler feels the added stretch of another finger, slippery with lube.

"Ahhhhh," Tyler breathes out. It's exactly what he needs.

Sid's voice buzzes against his hip. "Told you," he says.

Tyler concentrates on the sensations; Sid's strong fingers twisting inside, nearly but not quite grazing his prostate, Sid's mouth on his neck, on his ribs. The sound of Sid's breathing, slow and steady at first, then getting more ragged.

"Damn," Sid says after a few minutes. He sits back, leaving just his fingers inside Tyler. Sid sounds awed, as Tyler looks down at the sheets and blinks sweat out of his eyes, feeling the air from the overhead fan cool across his back. "Tyler. I know you hear this all the time, but fuck you're hot."

Tyler laughs. It sounds pretty ragged too. "Not like I get tired of hearing it." He shifts his shoulders and misses the heat of Sid against him.

"Vain," Sid says, and Tyler can hear the smile in it.

"But you like it."

Sid doesn't reply, just crooks his fingers enough to make Tyler keen at the flash of pleasure up his spine.

"Ooooh," Sid breathes. "You - you sound..." He trails off. Tyler groans again as Sid rubs his prostate just so.

"I sound?" Tyler prompts.

"Like I want you to make that sound again," Sid says. It doesn't really make much sense but Tyler's reduced to a whimper of loss when Sid eases his fingers out.

"Turn around," Sid says, and pats Tyler's hip.

"Not fucking me into the headboard then?" Tyler teases, turning around. Sid's pinked up across his cheekbones, sweat already curling his hair.

"I - can, if that's what you want?" Sid says, eyebrows raising while the corner of his mouth turns down.

"I can't say I haven't thought about it," Tyler says. "Can you blame me?" He’d thought about it a lot, Sid’s hand heavy between his shoulders, taking what he wanted. 

" I- well of course, if you'd prefer," Sid squares his shoulders and raises his chin. Tyler can't believe he's this close to finally getting Sid's gorgeous cock in him and they're getting held up by two sets of competing manners. "Sorry," Sid says. "I shouldn't have assumed I -"

"Hey, Sid." Tyler shuffles so he's sitting next to him. The lube rolls off the bed and hits the floor with a thump. "At this point, I'll get you inside me anyway you like. Want to tell me what's going on here?" He kisses the side of Sid's head, then his mouth when Sid turns to meet him. "I was enjoying that - in case you couldn't guess."

"I guessed," Sid says, giving Tyler's dick a quick stroke. Tyler presses up into it, biting his lip. He's beyond ready, but this is important.

"And?" he prompts.

"And I want to see you. I want to see your face when I fuck you." Sid's hand's still a little slick from the lube, moving up and down, slowly, teasing. "You're so so hot. I want to see that."

Sid's not going to win any prizes for dirty talk, but the bare honesty of it makes Tyler's heart race.

"This one of the things you've been thinking about?" he asks, running his fingers down the length of Sid's cock, already slick and ready. Trust Sidney to be prepared.

"Yes," Sid says, his own hand never faltering. "Since Prague. Want you here, in my lap."

"You just want me to do all the work," Tyler teases, but his voice is shaky even to his own ears. He wants this so much, wants Sid inside him.

"Hey,” Sid says, and he’s smiling again. "You seem to like people watching you work out. All those videos. I promise I'll be a very good audience."

"Well, when you put it like that." Tyler grins and kisses him. It's fond, and wet, and he leans forward again when Sid pulls them back, slouching against the headboard.

"How flexible are you?" Sid asks.

"You watched the videos," Tyler grins, and he lets Sid hook his knees apart, pushing one up to his chest. "Let's find out." It still takes a minute, letting his body adjust, but then they get the angle right and it’s a slow, controlled slide down, onto Sid's big cock and ohhhhhh that's what he needed. He settles into Sid's lap, legs spread either side of his waist. Sid gasps.

Tyler leans forward to kiss his nose.

"Hi," he says. "Let's do this."

"Guh," Sid says. His eyes are a little hazy already, and they've barely started. This is going to be awesome.

Tyler kisses him again, breath catching as Sid shifts inside him.

"Gonna move or am I doing all the work after all?" he says.

"Uh," Sid grunts. Tyler's ass is great, he knows, but he needs something more from Sid here.

He lifts himself up slightly, and rocks back down, trying to find the right angle, trying to just -

" _Fuck_ ," he shouts, because Sid's finally pulled his brain together to move, and he thrusts up as Tyler rocks down, smooth power in his thighs, hitting exactly the right spot and punching the breath out of Tyler so all he can do is pant and swear.

"You were saying?" Sid grins

"Keep doing that, fuck," Tyler says, "right there, god, _Sid_."

"I, yes, ngh," Sid pants, and he does it again, and again, falling into the rhythm, like a song, like a perfectly timed drill.

"I, I was right," he says, each word a gasp, in time with his thrusts.

"Yeah?" Tyler says. Fuck it's good, Sid feels amazing inside him.

"You look hot as fuck," Sid says, "god, you look," he trails off, and pulls Tyler down to kiss him again, like there's no words left.

Tyler fucks himself hard on Sid, pushing up with his thighs and letting himself fall all the way back down again, slamming onto Sid and gasping with each descent. Sid’s shoving up into him, hands hot on Tyler’s thighs, roaming over his belly and chest. Tyler’s necklace is a counterpoint, lifting off his chest and settling back down again, wet with the sweat pouring off of him and cold from the air conditioning. 

Tyler leans forward, resting his forehead against Sid’s. It shifts the angle of Sid’s cock inside him and Tyler’s breath catches at the sharp sparks of heat. He ends up panting wetly on Sid instead of kissing him.

“Okay?” Sid asks quietly, smiling and hungry against Tyler’s mouth and not moving his hands an inch from where they’re gripping Tyler’s hips, holding him steady. Tyler thinks for a second, letting himself adjust, and then Sid’s eyelashes are pulling gently across his and Tyler suddenly can’t stand not seeing him, so he pushes up from his shoulders. Sid’s smiling, his face pink and his mouth swollen, and Tyler is still a little surprised, even after everything, at the easy joy on Sid’s face every time they end up like this.

Tyler grins back. “Fuck. Yes.” 

Sid huffs out a laugh that turns into a groan when Tyler shifts his weight back and pulls up slowly and nearly all the way off before sinking back down again, pushing down into his knees. There’s only the tiniest twinge in his knee, and he settles back onto his heels.

“Shit, Tyler,” Sid says, running his hands down and up Tyler’s thighs again, sinking his thumbs into the join of his legs, pressing into the hollows of his tendons. Tyler snugs his knees up against Sid’s ribs more firmly, squeezing as if he could push the breath out of Sid’s chest and simultaneously clenching down around his cock. He wants to pull as much of Sid as he can into himself, to wrap himself around this moment. Tyler holds his breath, stomach muscles tightening. Sid’s mouth has fallen open, but as Tyler draws him as closely as he can, Sid breathes out, the corners of his lips just tilting upward. He looks up at Tyler with anticipation and delight, like he can’t wait to see what happens next.

Tyler tilts so he can kiss Sid again, pulling on his lower lip before licking into his mouth, hot and wet. Tyler’s necklace gets caught between them, spilling over Sid’s cheek. Tyler huffs out a laugh and pulls back again, sitting up a little. Half in shadow, Sid’s still looking up at him, eyes bright as ever with the beads of Tyler’s necklace pouring over his mouth and onto his cheek. Tyler files Sid’s patience with it away for later reference. Pretty as it is, right now the necklace is in the way of Tyler getting as much skin on Sid as he can. He runs a finger across Sid’s mouth, pushing his finger gently inside over Sid’s tongue before lifting the necklace away, pulling it over his head and wrapping it around his own wrist. 

“You feel _so_ good,” Sid says, and then reaches down and tickles both of Tyler’s feet. 

Tyler yelps out a laugh and kicks as much as he can without unseating himself from Sid’s dick, swatting at Sid’s arms until he can’t take it any more and curls over himself with laughter, gasping on Sid’s shoulder. Sid’s laughing too, light and bright like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and runs his fingers over Tyler’s ribs, poking while Tyler giggles helplessly into Sid’s collarbone. 

“If I could get myself off your dick, I would totally get you back,” Tyler says weakly, pushing at Sid’s arms. There’s no way Tyler is taking himself off Sid’s dick, thick and hot and hard inside of him. Sid smooths his hands over Tyler’s sides, turns his head to kiss under Tyler’s ear and into his jaw. Tyler shivers out a last echo of tickling, body wound up tight and heart pounding.

“Maybe later,” Sid says, and then pushes up with his hips and thighs, flipping them over. 

Tyler can’t help laughing again. “How the fuck did you do that?” Sid’s smiling back down at Tyler, triumphant. “What?” Sid asks innocently, eyebrows raised.

“Dude.” Sid shifts and Tyler sucks in a breath and huffs it out again. Tyler wedges a hand between them and pokes hard at Sid’s groin, where they’re still joined, Sid between Tyler’s knees, and watches the muscles jump. “You’re lucky I do yoga.” 

“I was careful!” Sid protests. “And I thought it was pilates now.” 

Tyler blinks, and Sid kisses him gently. “I pay attention.” It’s hard for Tyler to think with Sid braced over him and in him, so he kisses back, tilting his head so he can pull at Sid’s lower lip. He stops and breathes in, tracing lines over Sid’s shoulder and bicep. “I didn’t know,” Tyler starts, “you know it would’ve been cool to just. Watch shitty TV.”

“Yeah,” Sid says. “But this is better.” He pulls Tyler’s hand out from between their bodies and settles leans his weight into him, heavy and hot. “Right?”

His voice is deep and confident in Tyler’s ear, but he’s really asking, Tyler thinks a little wildly. Like if Tyler said he’d prefer television they’d go watch television, lube dripping everywhere.

Tyler laughs and responds in the most honest way he knows, which is to simultaneously clench his ass down and grind his hips up, shoving his cock against the solid wall of Sid’s abs. 

“I don’t know, man, House Hunters International is pretty good.”

Sid retaliates by dropping his full weight on top of Tyler, pushing him into the mattress. Tyler’s thighs, already spread wide around Sid’s pre-season bulk, are pressed almost flat against the sheets. The pull and stretch of his inner thighs makes Tyler’s legs quiver, but it feels good, the way they always do when he’s starting to get seriously into a workout. Like he’s stretching just a little bit more, finding a deeper extension. It figures Sid would be giving him an assist. 

Sid’s quads start shifting against Tyler’s thighs as he makes minute thrusts, grinding up against Tyler like he’s determined to get every centimetre of his cock inside of him. Tyler gasps at the pressure and tilts his head, the only part of himself not weighed down, opening up his neck and collarbone in invitation, and Sid takes him up on it, licking down his neck. 

“Christ, Sid,” he gasps, and starts laughing a little again when Sid licks into the hollow of his collarbone and then sets his teeth gently into it. Sid stops moving, hands still tight on Tyler’s hips. “Good?” he asks. 

Tyler giggles again. “Yes, good don’t stop you fucker.”

"Not gonna," Sid's laugh has an edge of desperation to it. "Not now". He thrusts again, little snapping movements and it's almost right, almost exactly where Tyler needs it, only -

"Ngh," Tyler manages to grunt out. "I need.. Sid,"

"Got it," Sid says and he slides one hand under Tyler's knee to shift his leg onto his shoulder, giving Sid room to -

"Yes!" Tyler feels the shout rip out of him because the angle is perfect, hitting him just right. "Fucking, keep it right there." He digs his heel into Sid's back to urge him on, and Sid doesn't seem to need much else. He snaps his hips forward and kisses Tyler messily.

"You feel so fucking good," Sid pants, laughter still at the edge of his words. He reaches for Tyler's cock but the movement loses that perfect angle and Tyler cries out.

"Sorry sorry,” Sid says, resettling and finding it again. "I just, fuck, want to see you come."

"Not gonna be a problem if you keep doing that," Tyler says. He clenches around Sid and this time it's Sid that shouts, a long groan that's hot as fucking hell. 

"Touch yourself," Sid says, kissing along his jaw. "Please, come on." He sounds desperate and Tyler looks up into his face, sweaty and pink, lips red from kissing, and does as he's asked. He wraps his hand around his cock somehow and pushes up against Sid's abs, rocking with the force of Sid's thrusts. He feels Sid shudder against him as he starts to come and that's enough, Sid's cock and Sid's mouth and Sid, Sid, _Sid_ and Tyler drops his head back onto the pillow, all the laughter punched out of him as he finally, finally comes. 

Sid's still panting into his neck, breath coming fast and uneven. "Sid," Tyler mumbles, because the closeness is nice but Sid is fucking heavy and he can't quite manage to push him off while he's still inside him.

"Ngh," Sid grunts against his skin. Tyler flexes his leg and slides it back down to the bed, which makes things a bit more comfortable. Since Sid apparently isn't into moving yet. 

Sid fumbles for his hand and holds on, kissing his pulse point then raising his head to look at him. His curls are plastered to his face. "I was right," he mumbles.

"Hm?" Tyler manages. His brain is still kind of foggy with pleasure.

"You looked amazing," Sid giggles, kind of dopey. "Fuck, I might be ruined for porn."

"You say the sweetest things," Tyler says, and can't help the edge of laughter because hey, he'll take that compliment.

Sid eases out of him and Tyler can't help the hiss. Sid kisses him absently, says "sorry, sorry" and flops down onto the bed.

Sid stares at the ceiling, eyes hazy, as he comes down from what Tyler's pretty sure is going straight into one of his top ten fucks of all time. His breath comes in rough pants, and Tyler's matches it, gradually slowing down. Tyler leans over the side of the bed and scrabbles around on the floor until he finds a half-empty water bottle. He talks a long drink and hands it to Sid when he sticks his hand out. Sid props himself up on his elbows and drains the bottle.

"Dude," Tyler holds up his hand for a high five, which Sid, grinning, gives him. “ _DUDE_ ”

"Yeah," Sid says, happy, kind of goofy. "Mmmmm this was such a good idea."

"What was?" Tyler prompts. He likes to be recognised, even though it's always pretty clear what works for Sid. It's good for Sid to _say_ what he likes, Tyler thinks.

"Coming here. Taking the time, even though I should be training." Sid smiles.

"Your conditioning seems great to me," Tyler runs his hand over Sid's abs, feeling the sleek muscle. It comes away slightly tacky and Tyler wipes it off on the sheets. Sid laughs.

"Right back at you," he says. "Excellent flexibility work there, good job. I meant. Well. I thought, doing this again. With you, for a third time. That's a habit, right? And everyone knows what i'm like with habits. So I wasn't sure. If you would think it was a good idea."

Tyler feels a little twist in his stomach. "A habit?" he asks, carefully. "Is that all you think this is?" He tries not to sound hurt, but it stings a little.

"I don't know. I've never - I've never done this kind of. Casual thing. More than once," Sid says, haltingly. He's pink. Tyler thinks he might actually be _blushing_. "So I guess. It's... a habit? It's not a one off. Three times means it’s - something else?" He closes his eyes, and waits. Like he's waiting for Tyler to let him down gentle. Like he's holding out for something just out of reach and doesn't know how to ask for it.

Tyler's not sure but maybe. Maybe Sid _doesn't_ know how.

"Sid," he says, slowly. It's important he gets this right. "Three times is a _relationship_. Or it could be, if you want."

Sid blinks his eyes open. His lashes are stuck together in clumps.

"A - no it's not," he says, but he sounds uncertain. "It _can't_ be." Sid sounds so sad.

Tyler picks up Sid's hand and winds their fingers together. "Why not?" Tyler asks. "I like you. A lot. We have great sex. The distance isn't ideal, but there's no reason not to try." The small thing that shook loose on the couch is growing and unfurling, making him want to make sure Sid _gets_ it. Understands this is an option. 

“I wouldn’t.” Sid stops and his mouth tightens; he’s losing that fucked out look and is starting to just look tired. Tyler’s heart picks up again, thudding in his chest, but he waits Sid out. “It’s hard enough on the guys with families,” Sid continues, “and this...it’s, you know.” 

Tyler raises an eyebrow. “Babe, I really _don’t_ know.” He couldn’t even begin to guess, and Sid is usually five steps ahead. 

Sid wipes a hand over his face and tries again. “You know what it’s like for the guys on the road. And you’re - “ Sid smiles at Tyler, eyes crinkling at the corners, and tilts his head. “You’re you.”

Tyler looks back at him blankly. “We’ve established that I’m me and you’re you. Good talk.”

“Fuck,” Sid says, and heaves a sigh.

“We just did, but I can try again,” Tyler says, baring his teeth in a mostly-teasing smile. Still though. His muscles are sore, but maybe if they just back laid down. Tyler reaches toward Sid’s cock and he groans.

“Well if you’re not going to talk about it I can think of better things to do,” Tyler says, and cups his hand gently around Sid’s balls. 

“I do want to talk,” Sid says, but he’s smiling again, and Tyler wraps his thigh around Sid’s, pressing into him.

“Jesus, Tyler.” 

“Yeah babe.”

“You are so good at this.”

“I know.” Tyler grins and kisses Sid’s temple.

“Look, I just. I wouldn’t want you to give anything up. You’re -”

“Yeah, me, I got it.”

“I’m sorry, I just...” Sid pushes Tyler gently away and looks through his eyelashes at him. Tyler’s pretty sure it isn’t on purpose. “It’s hard enough. And you know what I’m like, and I know you’re interested in other people, and I don’t want to take anything away from you.” 

His words are rushing out now, strong and serious, keeping Tyler from interrupting again. “I like you, and I’ve liked this, and I want to keep being your friend.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Sid.”

“I know you and Jamie are close. I don’t want to stop you from having that.”

“Sid, I’m close with a lot of people.” Tyler’s not quite rolling his eyes, because there is something with Jamie, even if he doesn’t know what it is yet. It might just be all the press about them being soulmates or whatever, giving him ideas.

Tyler squeezes Sid’s hand. “But I like what we have, and I want to keep having it, and just because there’s other stuff doesn’t mean this has to stop.”

"It's not that easy," Sid says.

"Why _not_?" Tyler bites back the frustration. "Why can't it be?"

"Because," Sid makes a cut off gesture with the hand Tyler isn't holding, "because I'll see you so rarely, and you'll want to be with other people, and I'd be selfish to stop you."

Tyler lines the words up carefully in his head. He wants to get this right.

"Do you want to stop fucking?" he asks, bluntly. "Because, yeah, I sleep with my friends sometimes but we could - not do that. If that's what you want. We could _just_ be friends."

" I- no," Sid says. His hand tightens in Tyler's. "I would want. Whenever I saw you next. I would want _you_."

"You have me," Tyler says. "You could keep right on having me, whenever we could manage it. That's what _I_ want."

 _Come on, Sid,_ he thinks _be selfish_.

Sid's not saying anything, and Tyler waits a few more heartbeats before squeezing his hand again.

"You know," he says, carefully. "There's no rule that says you can only have one boyfriend."

Sid frowns, confused. "That's generally how it goes," he says.

"But it doesn't _have_ to," Tyler presses. There's a fancy word for it, he vaguely remembers. Maybe if he'd actually gone to college like his mom wanted he'd know it. As it is, he knows the concept. Sid and him, together when they can manage it, counting on each other, enjoying each other, no matter what (or who) they did in between. He can see it all laid out so clearly, if only Sid will say yes.

"If what's stopping you from keeping this is you worrying I'll miss out all the other sex I could be having -"

"- that's not quite what I said," Sid says. "But we'll be apart more than we'll be together. You'll be lonely."

"I won't be," Tyler says. "Are you?"

"Not really," Sid says. "I miss you. Sometimes."

They're getting there, Tyler thinks.

"And I miss you. But would it bother you, if when we were apart, I slept with other people?"

"I assumed you already did," Sid says, with a rueful smile. "I assumed right at the beginning, remember? It doesn't bother me." He looks down at the pillows, blushing.

"And you should go ahead and do it too, if you want," Tyler says. "So, we'd be together. But not...Exclusive." He shifts around, feeling the sheets crinkle under him. His chest feels tight, and he wants to pull Sid closer, but resists. He doesn’t want Sid to feel like he’s crowding him. He wants this to be a choice Sid makes freely. He probably doesn’t get many of those, Tyler thinks. "I like you so much. I want to keep doing this. If the only thing stopping you is thinking I'll be missing out on sex when we're not together then this would be. Uh. A solution." 

“It doesn’t sound like, uh, a serious relationship,” Sid says, but he sounds hopeful. Like Tyler was giving him something he hadn’t known how to ask for.

"It's serious, if we think it is." Tyler says. "And I think it is." 

The afterglow is pretty comprehensively gone, Tyler thinks, but Sid is curled towards him and he looks hopeful and stunned and confused all at once.

The silence stretches out and Tyler bites back the urge to fill it, to take it back. He doesn't want to take it back. He runs his finger under Sid's necklace and thinks about superstition and rituals and making your own luck. He can be patient, for this.

Sid snuggles into Tyler's shoulder. All Tyler can see is the top of his head, but he can feel his lips brush his skin when Sid finally speaks.

"I think..." he says, slowly, sleepily. "It's serious to me, too. I didn't expect it, but yeah. It is."

Tyler kisses his hair. He's sleepy too. Everything else can wait until the morning. He's aching from fucking and that plus the unexpected feelings talk have taken their toll. He tightens his arm around Sid's waist and smiles when Sid pins him with his legs. He's not going anywhere, it seems.

"Awesome," he says. "Good talk."

Sid giggles a little but doesn't lift his head. Tyler lets his eyes close. The last thing he feels as he drifts off is Sid's fingers, playing over the beads round his wrist, before sliding down to clasp his hand again.

***

Tyler's arm is heavy and he's sleeping like the dead. Sid's used to lifting bigger guys off of him, but that's usually when he doesn't care if they land with a thump. This is different. Tyler's fast asleep, sprawled all over him, and Sid doesn't really want to wake him.

But he does need to think more about what Tyler suggested, last night. And to do that, he needs to move. Sid wriggles out of bed carefully, thighs protesting the stretch. He rolls his shoulder out and hears the click. Tyler snuffles into the pillow but doesn't wake.

The dogs whuff softly and follow him out of the bedroom. Sid's still not sure about kibble rules but he grabs a glass of water for himself and checks their water bowl is full. He heads out into the yard, feeling the smooth wooden deck warm under his feet, even this early. The pool looks inviting, but before he can dive in Cash drops a mangled tennis ball at his feet.

"Okay, buddy," Sid says, and stoops to pick up the ball and tosses it. Cash races after it and grabs it out of the air and runs back to drop it.

"Again?" Sid puts a little more arm into it. It's the kind of soothing physical motion that always calms his mind, stoop, release, wait, repeat, the dogs racing over the grass, ears laid back and tongues hanging out. It gives him time to think.

"Three times is a relationship."

He'd never thought to think of it like that, especially since he assumes that Tyler's sleeping with other people. Sid's been thinking of this as a hook up, for the end of summer. Except that none of the other summer flings he's had have been this satisfying. Or this fun. Or this easy. 

He's no closer to figuring it out when Tyler yells "Cash! Marshall! Breakfast!!!" and the dogs both streak past him, ball forgotten for the lure of kibble.

"You kidnapping my dogs?" Tyler kisses his cheek.

"Sorry," Sid wipes his hand off on his shorts. It's kind of slobbery. "I couldn't sleep."

"You okay?" Tyler asks, already turning away to go back into the house.

"I was thinking," Sid says. "About what you said last night."

"I said a lot of things last night," Tyler says, not giving him anything.

"You know what I mean," Sid says. He follows Tyler into the house, staring at his bare back, his waist, the muscled curves of his inked arms. He's so hot, and Sid's so, so into him, there has to be more to it than a summer fling, Sid thinks wildly, has to be some way to get more, and now Tyler's offering him a way to make it work.

"I know," Tyler smiles and bends to put the dogs dishes on the floor. Cash and Marshall sit politely until he gives them the release word, then dive in, scattering kibble all over the tile. "You can write it off as me being come-dumb. If you want."

His face, always so open, says he really hopes Sid won't.

"I...don't want to?" Sid makes it a question. "Sorry. I just never thought about. Well. Any of it that way. Any um. Relationship."

"Let me guess. You were going to wait til you retired?" Tyler grins.

Sid knocks his fist against the wooden butcher block automatically.

"I hope that's not going to be for a long time," he says. "But yeah. For anything that - anything I wanted to last. It doesn't seem - fair. so much of my attention is on hockey. On being captain. The travel. The press. The pressure. How could I ask anyone to cope with that for me? They'd be so alone. I'd do my best, but."

He knows he's not explaining himself very well. But for as long as he's been sure he'd play hockey, relationships were something that would come _after_. To try and reassess that now is taking some effort.

"And now, when you said that we could. That you'd still want this, even with all the travel. Even with not being together all the time. That you'd have...other people too, so you wouldn't be lonely, but that you still want me." Sid tries again but he's not making any more sense, at least not to himself. Maybe Tyler hears what he really means.

Tyler leans back against the counter, body open. Not reaching for Sid, but not boxing him in either.

"Had you never really thought about it?" he asks.

"Not the way that you seem to mean it?" Sid replies. "I mean, I've had a few girlfriends, short term things, I suppose. Some one night stands." He shuffles his feet because it sounds so small, compared to what he imagines Tyler’s experience to be. "And a few guys. Uh, after you. But with Sut - some other guys, I always knew it was a one off. I never expected or thought to ask for more, because it didn't seem fair. But with you. I don't want it to just be that."

He bits his lip against the slip, hopes Tyler won't pick him up on it. Brandon's story isn't his to tell, and that was really a goodbye more than anything else.

"This is really hard for you, isn't it?" Tyler asks.

"It's just _new_ ,” Sid says. "I know it's not cheating, if we both know about it, but it's just a lot. It's just something I never even knew was an option."

It sounds stupid as he says it, because of course the guys in juniors would brag about a girl in every road trip city, something more about keeping score then liking the girls, but that doesn't seem to be the way Tyler sees it.

"But you _do_ want to keep doing this?" Tyler asks, and this time he does reach for him, wraps an arm around Sid's waist. Sid leans into him. He's so warm.

"Fuck, Tyler. I'm so into you. I'll see you every chance I get," Sid says honestly.

"Then we'll start from there." Tyler kisses the top of his head. "And everything else will work itself out.”

Sid tucks his face into Tyler’s neck. He likes how they fit together. He’s looking forward to finding new ways to slot his body in with Tyler’s. Now they can. Now there’s not an end date, now it’s something he can come _back_ to. The possibilities make his breath hitch, and Tyler squeezes him tight.

“Good,” is all Sid can say, because he can’t sort the words out to say more, just now. 

Tyler might sense it because he kisses the top of Sid’s head again and then steps back and lets him go.

“I’m going to walk the kids while it’s still cool enough,” he says. The dogs don’t look up from their kibble. “Get today’s cardio out of the way at the same time. You want to come, or stay here, or...?”

“I _could_ go back to bed,” Sid says. It’s still pretty early; he never sleeps in when he’s got stuff on his mind and this is the earliest he’s been awake since coming to Texas. He still needs to move though, still itchy and restless. A quick game of fetch wasn’t really enough.

“You could.” Tyler reaches past him for the half-empty protein shake and checks to make sure the lid’s screwed on. 

“Eh, it’s not as much fun without you,” Sid says. “I’ll work out here while you run. That way we both have the rest of the day free.”

“Oh?” Tyler slurps his shake through the straw, making it look as suggestive as possible. “Why? You have plans?”

Sid laughs and nudges him with his bare foot. “I might have a few.”

Tyler wipes his the back of his hand across his mouth and clicks his tongue. The dogs skitter over to him. “I’ll leave you to think about them,” he says.

Sid tugs him forward and kisses him, slipping his tongue alongside Tyler’s before letting him go. “Sooner you go sooner you get back,” he says.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Tyler pecks him on the lips again before heading out of the kitchen, the dogs at his heels.

***

Tyler finds Sid doing laps in the pool, following the sound of splashing outside, orange juice in hand.

It's already heating up and in a few hours Tyler knows it will too hot to do much of anything. Now though, it's just right, the early sun warming the back of his neck and catching glints off of the pool water as Sid makes little waves and comes to a stop at the edge of the pool.

"Hey," he says, pushing his wet hair out of his face. "Good run?"

"The dogs enjoyed it," Tyler grins. "Gonna stay in there all morning?"

Sid shakes his head and climbs out of the pool. He doesn't bother using the steps, just pushes himself up with his arms. Tyler watches the bunch and release of his shoulders and biceps and takes a drink, mouth suddenly dry. The water runs down Sid's chest and along the cut of his hips to the low waistband of his swim shorts and -

"You look like a Bond Girl," Tyler says.

"What?" Sid looks confused.

"Like - in that one film, where she climbs out of the pool? Hot as fuck," Tyler hurries to explain. Sid's hair is in wet curls and he's flushed under his tan from the exercise, and he's panting a little, chest rising and falling, dripping water down onto Tyler's deck and Tyler wants to put his mouth on every bit of him.

 

The water drips slowly down Sid's chest, and Tyler follows one slow-moving drop with his eyes as it glides down, down down to the groove of Sid's hip, just begging to be followed by Tyler's tongue.

Sid pushes his wet hair out of his face.

"I'm not sure whether that's a compliment," Sid says, but he's laughing.

"Well I definitely jerked off to Halle Berry in that movie," Tyler says. "If that helps you decide."

"Are you saying you jerked off to _me_?" Sid asks.

Tyler grins. Sid's shorts are very, very low. Tyler tucks his fingers into the waistband of them, the wet cloth clinging to his fingers. He leans forward to whisper into Sid's ear.

"Yep. Even _before_ I knew how amazing it is to make you come."

He hears Sid's breath hitch and Sid nuzzles into his neck. Tyler slips one hand round to palm Sid's ass and feels the muscle flex. "And once I _did_ ," Tyler continues, "well it wasn't just your backhand I fantasized about." He says it as sleazily as possible and it gets the laugh he was going for, loud and ridiculous.

"Good to know," Sid says, and finally puts his hands on Tyler in return, cupping one wet hand round his neck to pull him down into a kiss. He tastes mostly of pool water, skin bitter with chlorine. Tyler squeezes his ass and shoves one thigh between Sid's so he has something to grind against as they kiss lazily, no urgency but lots of heat. Sid groans and kisses across Tyler's collarbone. His lips brush up his neck and he takes Tyler's earlobe between his teeth and Tyler's hips stutter forward.

"Me too," Sid says.

"You too what?" Tyler breathes out, no more than a sigh because Sid's rubbing his nipple through the tank and that's not fair, he _knows_ what that does to him.

"I jerked off thinking about you. A lot. And I kept that picture."

"Picture?" Tyler asks. Sid's making a sinuous grind against him now and Tyler directs him with one hand on his hip and kisses his neck.

"You know the one, the one you sent me." Sid kisses him deep and sweet, threading his hand into Tyler's hair to tug a little, and that's it for talking for a while, Sid clearly has other ideas. Tyler could take it further, stick his hand down the back of Sid's wet shorts and palm the firm curve of his ass, or go to his knees on the sun warm deck and suck him off until Sid moans, but it's a vague want. He's content with just this, Sid's mouth moving slow and sweet under his, Sid's hands tugging just right, directing his head to the exact angle he wants. They're both making happy little noises, and a giggle spills out of the kiss when Sid brushes up under Tyler's tank and tickles down his ribs.

Tyler wraps his leg round Sid's thigh to get closer, closer, and they both stumble, suddenly off balance.

"We’ll end up in the pool," Sid says, and untangles himself. "Come on." He takes Tyler's hand and Tyler lets himself be tugged over to the sun lounger on the covered porch. He sinks down and sprawls out on his back, and Sid climbs right onto his lap.

"Better?" Tyler asks.

Sid smiles down at him. "Much better." he says. Water drips from the end of his hair onto Tyler's face as Sid shifts to get comfortable. He likes this position, Tyler's learned. something about getting easy access to every part of Tyler, and maybe, Tyler thinks, knowing he can back away easily if he wants to. He likes being able to lean down and mouth at Tyler's neck, his collarbones, and Tyler's got no complaint. Not when it lets him feel every bit of Sid's body against his, pressing into him. And it gives great access to Sid's ass which is just a really, really great ass. Sid hmms happily as Tyler slides his hands into place and stretches out on top of him, lips working lazily against Tyler's throat.

"I want more pictures," Sid says between kisses. "I know it's probably dumb and dangerous, but if we're going to do this properly, I'm going to miss you. "

"You could just follow me on instagram," Tyler says, mostly to be a dick because the happy jolt that they're going to _try_ this makes his voice shake.

"I don't want the kind of pictures you could post to the internet." Sid sounds amused.

Tyler laughs. "Ahhh it’s like that, eh?"

"Although," Sid says, lifting his head to look at Tyler, "I'm not sure there's anything you wouldn't put on the internet. At least not going by those Sports Illustrated shots."

"Hey, those were _art_." Tyler tries to keep a straight face but he can't help it, he's laughing by the end of the sentence. Whatever, he knows he looked good and it was a lot of fun. And if Sid liked it too...

"It was something alright," Sid says, biting his lip. "The popsicle? Really?"

"That wasn't even my suggestion, can you believe it?" Tyler grins. "They know what the people want."

"How many rubber ducks have turned up in your stall?" Sid asks. He wriggles so he's lying on his side, head propped up on his elbow. He's caught the sun more, tan across the bridge of his nose and tops of his cheekbones. Tyler wonders if, given enough sun, he'd freckle.

"At least one each practice," Tyler says. Sid laughs so hard he nearly falls off the lounger. Tyler pins him with one leg over his calves to keep him in place. "Plus, someone sneaked in here and filled the pool with those ducks in hockey jerseys you can buy at the AAC. Cash was splashing around for hours trying to catch them all."

Sid smiles down at him and pats his abs. "First hat trick this season, ducks on the ice."

"They better stock up on ducks then," Tyler says. “Cause I plan to score plenty, just watch."

"I do," Sid says. "I like watching you. On and off the ice. Not just for scouting. Just to see you."

"I think we can do better than post match interviews for you to see me," Tyler says.

"I don't know," Sid's tongue pokes out between his teeth and he trails his fingers down Tyler's chest, touch light, tracing each dip of muscle. It tickles and Tyler giggles. "You’re hot when you're sweaty."

"Same," Tyler says. "And your hockey always gets me hot. That playoff game against the Rangers, your two goals? I wanted to call right after. Fuck, I watched the highlights with one hand on my dick." He surges up and kisses him as Sid's hand slips even lower.

"We'll make it work," Sid says, breath coming in pants, rocking slightly against Tyler's thigh. "Sort out match schedules, try and call each other afterward. It'll be awkward but -"

"But it's important," Tyler finishes for him, "We'll figure it out, when we play each other, when we play close to each other -"

"The holiday break - it's three days this year, All Star weekend." Sid kisses the side of his neck. "It won't be often but we'll see each other before next summer."

"Got the whole year worked out," Tyler says. "You really go all out planning."

Sid rests his hand flat on Tyler's stomach. "Is that a problem?"

"Nope," Tyler shakes his head in emphasis. "if you're in, I'm in."

Sid slides his hand into Tyler's shorts. Finally.

"I'm in," he says, and that's it for talking for a while.

***  
“So we have the Hockey Canada ring ceremony for worlds about a month into the season,” Sid says later, reading his email. “We can see each other then. That’s not too far away.”

Tyler looks up from making faces at Cash.

“Counting the days already,” he says. “And don’t think I missed the schedule on the fridge. You know you can just put all that shit on the calendar app, right?” 

Sid shakes his head. “I’m not doing all the work for you,” He hooks his chin onto Tyler’s shoulder, and closes his eyes as Cash licks his face. 

Tyler twists his head round to look at him. “I’m, well. You know. I’m not known for my timekeeping. But I’ll try, for you. I’ll learn.” He picks his phone up and taps at it. “There, you have everything I know I’m doing now.”

Sid’s phone pings and he opens the email saying he has access to Tyler’s calendar. He’s never been too fond of keeping everything on his phone, there’s too much risk of stuff being stolen, especially his privacy. But, well. He’s not going to hide forever. If the worst happens, he’ll deal with it.

“Thanks,” Sid says. He squints down at the schedule, Tyler is nearly as busy as he is. “Johnston’s calling us all back for camp in a week, but I’ve got media shots to do and some season ticket holder stuff, so I’m going straight to Pittsburgh from here, pretty much.” 

“This really is the end of your summer,” Tyler says, sliding his arm behind Sid. Sid leans back against him.

“Yeah,” Sid says. “Then it’s right back into it. Not much time for anything but hockey. You know how it is.”

“Uh huh,” Tyler agrees. “We’ll try and make time though, okay?”

“It’s hard,” Sid says. “But at least we’re in the same country? Geno’s girlfriend’s in Russia half the time, so. Could be worse?” 

“It could." Tyler laughs. It dislodges the ice pack from where it’s resting on his stretched-out knee. Sid picks it up and resettles it for him.

“Thanks babe,” Tyler says. 

“Gotta get you healthy,” Sid says.

“Managed to fuck you just fine with my knee in this state,” Tyler protests. 

Sid giggles. “No complaints there, but you need to be 100% so when the Pens beat you you’ve got no excuses.”

“Hey!” Tyler sounds indignant. “You wish.”

“Stars are going _down_ ,” Sid says, the chirping coming automatically.

“Me and Jamie will take your D apart,” Tyler says. “He’s actually _healthy_ this season, watch.”

Sid snuggles a little into Tyler and looks up at him.

“You haven’t mentioned him for a few days. No more photos of questionable shoes to share?”

“I told him I had a friend visiting from out of town and wouldn’t be around much,” Tyler says.

“I know you’re joined at the hip,” Sid says. It’s an odd feeling, to be encouraging Tyler to _not_ pay attention to him, but he suspects if this has even a tiny chance of working Tyler and Jamie are pretty much a package deal. Whatever that means.

“Maybe,” Tyler says, and kisses the top of Sid’s head. “But I see him nearly every day for months. I get so little time with you and I always want more. It wasn’t a sacrifice to not see Jamie for a few days, you know?”

Sid’s heart thuds.

“You sweet talker.” 

“Like I said. I’m all in,” Tyler says. “That means you get all the attention, when I have you here.”

The ice pack slides from Tyler’s knee as he swings round and kisses Sid hard, but this time, Sid’s too busy kissing back to notice.

***

Tyler sips his coffee slowly. The morning is quiet and warm, even the dogs are temporarily calm, tired out from their morning run and then 15 minutes of frisbee. Cash's paws twitch in dreams, and Tyler smiles into his mug and breathes in the steam.

"You let me sleep in," Sid's voice is a little wry, a little husky. Before Tyler can turn round Sid slides his arms and round him, hands clasped over his stomach. Tyler drinks the last of his coffee and puts the mug down.

"I couldn't wake you up," Tyler says, though it’s true he didn't try too hard. Sid had looked so content, and so right in his bed, he kind of wanted him to stay there.

"You know I have to go back today." Sid kisses the back of his neck softly. "No fair trying to make me sleep through it."

Tyler tilts his head back to rest on Sid's shoulder.

"Not ‘til this afternoon," he says. "How do you know I wasn't going to bring you breakfast in bed?"

Sid sounds like he's smiling. "Chocolate chip pancakes and real eggs?" he says.

"Of course," Tyler says. "Even though there's no snowstorm to keep us in bed this time." He covers Sid's hands with his own and Sid presses forward, warm at his back. His lips are warm too, soft on his neck and then up to his jaw.

"We don't need that excuse, eh?" Sid says.

The 'we' is nice, Tyler thinks. An acknowledgement. Especially when he knows how long it's going to be before he gets this again.

"I do know I'm pretty irresistible," he says, and twists his head to kiss Sid's cheek.

Sid chuckles but doesn't let him go.

"What am I, then?" he asks.

That's a question with lots of potential answers. Tyler goes with the most honest one.

"Worth the distance and the wait," he says.

Sid's breath catches, and he hugs him tighter, kissing his shoulder. "Good to know," he says softly. He plays with Tyler's fingers, clasping their hands together. Soon they'll have to go back inside, gather Sid's things, call a cab, and say their goodbyes, hopefully with blowjobs. But for now, there's the gentle breeze in the trees, and the chattering birds and Sid's breath coming in unison with his own.

***

"I'll see you on the ice, eh?" Sid says. He's not gotten any better at goodbyes, Tyler thinks.

"Yeah," Tyler says.

Sid's eye are bright, crinkling at the corners like he's thinking how weird this is.

"Fucking - come here." Tyler steps over Sid's gear bag and opens his arms. Sid slides right into them and holds on tight. He smells like Tyler, like his soap and shampoo, and Tyler breathes him in deep and kisses his neck.

"I _want_ this." Sid sounds fierce. "Don't forget".

"Not gonna," Tyler says.

Sid squeezes him even tighter. "I hate goodbyes," he says.

"So don't say it," Tyler suggests. "Say see you soon."

"Even if I won't? We don't know what the schedules are," Sid says.

"Face time," Tyler says. "Totally counts."

"Okay," Sid says a little shakily. "Then see you soon."

The cab honks outside. Tyler kisses Sid one last time, slow and deliberate, hands on his ass because he can't do _that_ over Facetime. Sid buries his hands in Tyler's hair and kisses back. By the time the cab honks again they're both panting.

"See you soon," Sid repeats.

"Yeah," Tyler says. "Promise." He reaches up to turn the brim of Sid's cap round so it shades his eyes and red face.

"Hey, I wondered where that went," he says, recognising the interlocked letters.

"Wanted a memento of that time in Milwaukee," Sid says. He picks up his bags and Tyler follows him out of the door. The cab waits at the end of the drive.

Sid gives him one last backslapping hug.

"See you when we beat you," he says, and jogs down the drive as Tyler shouts "HEY!"

The cab driver pops the trunk and Sid heaves his bags in and climbs into the back seat. He's leaning out the window to wave to Tyler as Jamie rounds the corner and almost skids to a stop on the gravel of Tyler's drive.

Oh yeah, Tyler remembers. Friday is run day, which Jamie hates so much he finishes it Tyler's so he can complain about it over second breakfast.

"Sid??" Jamie's voice floats out, loud and surprised. Tyler can't hear Sid's reply but he waves back as Sid hangs half out of the window to wave as the car pulls away. Jamie pauses, watching the car and then slogs up the drive, feet crunching over the gravel.

"Tyler," Jamie says, wiping his face with his shirt.

"Chubbs," Tyler says.

"Was that - that was Sid," Jamie says.

"Yup," Tyler says. "Stayed over a few days. Seems he likes Texas."

"He had - that was your hat," Jamie stutters.

"It's okay. I have more than one."

"Tyler...TYLER." Jamie looks earnestly concerned. "Tyler. what did you DO?"

Tyler just leans against the wall, and smiles.

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> C:Is the summary ok?  
> P: I like the summary! My only idea was "awkward penguin finds a relationship style that works for him" but yours is way better  
> C: We should put that in the end notes


End file.
